


Ray, Interrupted

by PAPERSK1N



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Mental Institution, Anger, Anger Management, M/M, Mavin, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, Mystery, NOTHING graphic at all i promise, Raywood, Some angst, Therapy, hinted other ships, if you haven't dont worry, jack/geoff friendship, mentions of anxiety and depression, mentions of self harm, mentions of various mental disorders, nothing too triggering though so don't be deterred, sort of vaguely loosely based of the 90s film girl interrupted so if you've seen that then cool!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-21
Updated: 2016-09-06
Packaged: 2018-07-16 11:28:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 19,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7266301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PAPERSK1N/pseuds/PAPERSK1N
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ray isn't admitted to the Rooster Teeth Institute for Troubled Boys because he wants to kill himself.</p><p>In Ray's head, he's just one more sad kid in a controlled environment where he can't sneak away and take control of his own destiny. Upon being shipped off to the ass end of Texas and placed into some glorified asylum for 'troubled and fragile young men' Ray believes that honestly, his shitty little life couldn't get any worse.</p><p>and then he meets Ryan.</p><p>Ray doesn't know anything about Ryan- what he's got, what he's done. He doesn't even really know who the other kid is, only that Ryan likes showing up at his room in the dead of the night and taking him for wanders before promptly disappearing come morning. Ray only ever sees Ryan in the dead of the night, feet silent against the linoleum floors</p><p>(Honestly, it's so confusing that he hasn't yet drawn out the possibility that Ryan's a ghost in disguise) </p><p>Follow Ray as he blunders his way through life in an institution, balancing friendships with the equally (if not more so) unstable AH Crew, and the ever present mystery of one Ryan Haywood.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Patient Zero

Chapter I

 

Ray isn’t admitted to the Roosterteeth Institute for Troubled Boys because he wants to kill himself.

 

Ray is admitted to the Roosterteeth Institute for Troubled boys because he _allegedly_ has -in varying degrees of severity- depression and anxiety (not necessarily in that order), so called ‘self-destructive tendencies’ and fairly mild insomnia. Medically, he could be described as someone with a ‘mental disorder’. Figuratively, he could be described as a bit of a ‘Debby Downer’, a ‘dark cloud’, or a ‘black sheep’.

 

(Not necessarily in that order.)

 

In Ray’s mind, order doesn’t exist. It’s something made up by the adults and the ‘mentally healthy’ people to explain the way they feel without resorting to the rational explanation that maybe- just maybe, they’re all a little bit crazy. Ray is well aware that he tried to kill himself. He is also very much aware that it didn’t work, and this is why he finds himself in the back seat of a non-descript black car with seats that are too clean, driving through the hillish (read: hellish) Texas countryside.

Texas is a really big state. Ray knows this, because in the hospital, his mom had showed him Texas on a map and pointed to where his new home would be. Then, she pointed to the red dot that was Austin, where her new home would be. Ray thinks this was her feeble attempt at reassuring him, making him feel like he really wasn’t that far away at all, but the map had a tiny note of its scale in the top corner. What looked to be only a few centimetres was in reality, more than a few thousand square miles.

Ray doesn’t care if he’s a hundred miles away or a hundred thousand. The more distance between he and his mother the better. This isn’t because he doesn’t love her. This is because he does love her, and he can no longer stand the sad beat-up look in her eyes every time she looks at him. She thinks he wants to die. She is correct.

Wanting to die, for Ray, isn’t really a big deal. In only a few short years the feeling of dread at mere existence had blossomed and grew into a full blown mental disorder (or at least, that was how his therapist tried to explain it to him). He was cool with it, for the most part. He liked to hurt himself and he liked to feel sad and he enjoyed the idea of his eventual death- his final freedom from all the shitty suffering.

On his first night in the Roosterteeth Institute for Troubled Boys, he is given a room and a panic button and a tiny paper cup with two red pills inside. He doesn’t know why they make them so red and so vibrant and only hopes it isn’t to make them appear less threatening, because if it is, it isn’t working. The plastic shell breaks away in his mouth as he chews and the powder explodes over his tongue. The nurse has bright red hair and a friendly smile as she offers him more water to take them down with. Ray refuses because he likes the way the meds make his throat feel dry. Perhaps, with the slightest bit of luck, he’ll actually choke so hard that he’ll just keel over then and there.

Ray’s life sucks, and he is aware of this fact. He welcomes it, even and when he’s finally left alone in the plain looking bedroom (one single metal bedframe and mattress. One wooden nightstand with a loose knob. One grey lamp with a flickering bulb. One bookshelf, three books. One wardrobe, five t-shirts and five pairs of pants. Why must they all dress the same? Ray isn’t sure.) he lies flat on his back and stares up at the ceiling. There is no ceiling fan, nor any light fixture strong enough to support a makeshift noose crafted from the bedsheets. Obviously, because this is a government funded institute and the government can’t afford any more dead kids under their jurisdiction.

In the government’s eyes Ray is alive. It doesn’t matter that Ray thinks differently. The government doesn’t care what Ray thinks; they just care that he falls into all the right criteria to determine ‘aliveness’ so they can fill their quota on the children they have ‘saved’. In Ray’s new bedroom, a poster hangs on the wall that says _Be strong. It may be stormy now, but it never rains forever._

Whoever wrote that quote clearly wasn’t aware of the Earth’s cooling period. Back when he was allowed to go to school, a science teacher told Ray how during this ecological period it rained for millions of years. Ray’s lifespan, voluntary or not, is a lot shorter than a million years, so theoretically- for him, it could rain forever.

Ray wishes the rain outside would stop. People used to tell him that it never rained in Texas. Those people were wrong.

Ray’s musings are interrupted by a tapping at his door. Frowning, he climbs out of bed and approaches, pulling the handle so the door opens a crack and he can peer through to the outside. A boy stands in the hallway. His eyes are blue, but not like most people’s. They are icy and clear and filled with a beautiful kind of madness that Ray immediately feels tugging at his chest. It’s a pain, but a nice sort of pain. The boy smiles, as if he knows.

“Come with me?”

The boy’s name is Ryan, he learns quickly. Ryan walks with confidence in his stride, like he could map out the whole institute with a single stroke of a pen. His footsteps have purpose, hospital-approved shoes barely making a sound across the linoleum floor. He’s walked this path a thousand times, that’s obvious. Ray follows behind him quietly, every muscle in his body twitching and attempting to match the impossible silence in Ryan’s quick steps.

Ryan takes him up to a balcony that looks like it’s been condemned since nineteen ninety-seven. It creaks and gives slightly as Ray steps forwards, Ryan close behind him. Ray doesn’t feel afraid at the very real prospect of the floor giving in underneath him. He closes his eyes as the wind whips through his hair and imagines the feeling of tumbling four stories to the ground. Like a carnival ride that lasts forever.

“ _Mon Cheri._ ” Ryan mutters to himself. Ray raises an eyebrow.

“You speak French?”

Ryan sparks a small plastic lighter. It is white with a word scratched into it, the deep cut of a knife or scissors dug into the plastic, forcing it to become malleable. Ray can’t make out the word, because Ryan lights his cigarette quickly and tucks the lighter back into his pocket.

“No.” He shakes his head. “I only know two things in French. _Mon Cheri_ \- it means like… my dear, or my love or something along those lines.”

“What’s the second thing?”

“ _Oh, mon Dieu , qu'avez-vous fait?_ ” Ryan says quietly, but his voice takes on a funny pitch and his lip quirks into a smile, like he’s impersonating someone. He takes another drag of his cigarette. Ray frowns.

“What does that one mean?”

“So what’re you in for?”

He deflects the question so expertly that Ray doesn’t even realise he’s done it until it’s too late. Ryan is cool and he smokes cigarettes like he’s done it every God-damn day of his short life. Ryan taps his feet impatiently on the rotting wooden floors of the balcony. Ryan is impatient to live in the same way he is impatient to die.

“Maybe I don’t want to tell you.” Ray folds his arms, jutting his chin out. It’s a poor attempt at flirtation masked as a childish endeavour.  Ryan shrugs it off. Ryan is a cool guy who doesn’t care about stuff, apparently. Ray has always had a thing for cool guys who don’t care about stuff.

“Hey, can I have a cigarette?” Ray asks. Ryan shrugs again, offering the packet to Ray nonchalantly. Ray takes a slender stick of lung cancer laced with tar and rolls it between his fingers thoughtfully. He’s smoked cigarettes before, and he hates the taste. Ryan’s lighter is gripped in his fist and outstretched, flame flickering but not extinguishing in the cool night. Ray leans in and inhales. The cigarette smoke burns him from the inside out, his chest and his lungs and his throat and even his eyes. He embraces the feeling.

“What’re you here for, Ryan?” he asks. Ryan shakes his head.

“I can’t just go and tell you that now, can I?” he smirks. “People like me like to have secrets.”

“Yeah, I get you.” Ray nods, and holds his cigarette between his two fingers like a movie star. Ryan doesn’t look. “You’re alright Ryan, you know that?”

Ryan nods. “Yeah. You think I’m pretty alright. Stay dreaming, sweetheart.”

Ryan calls him sweetheart even though they’ve only just met. Ray’s cheeks heat up with a blush that he hasn’t felt in a long, long time. Ryan barely glances at him, like he always has that effect on people.

Ryan flicks his cigarette over the balcony, and it falls into the ground below. Ray does the same with his own, even though it’s barely touched his lips. Ryan isn’t interested anymore, so neither is he- apparently. Why he follows this stranger so blindly he isn’t quite aware, but it feels right.

“I have to go.” Ryan says, looking at him in the eyes for the first time. “Sorry. Hopefully I’ll see you around this place soon?”

“Yeah.” Ray nods, smiling. “Walk me back to my room?” he asks. Ryan bites his lip.

“Tempting offer, sweetheart, but I’m not allowed to do that. There’s not much I’m allowed to do around here at all, to be honest.”

Ryan disappears after that, leaving Ray a little more alone than he felt in his empty bedroom, leant against the rickety supports of the balcony.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Gavin Free has Attention Deficiency Disorder (which he abbreviates to ADD) along with some pretty serious Attachment Anxiety that he _thinks_ stems back to abandonment issues he suffered as a child- whereas the Doctors think it’s early signs of Histrionic Personality Disorder . He informs Ray of these facts casually during their first meeting, Gavin sprawled out on one of the sofas with a leg cocked up beside him, Ray sitting awkwardly adjacent to the British boy, knees cuddled up to his chest.

“Oh, and then you’ve got Michael- he’s my best friend,” Gavin points to a pasty looking russet haired boy with a thunderous expression, glaring at a nurse as he is handed his medication. When he catches Gavin looking, his expression softens and he waves. Gavin waves back, Michael takes his medication, Ray silently observes. “Michael’s got some serious brain-rewiring. They call it Intermittent Explosive Disorder but I reckon it’s all rubbish. He just gets angry sometimes… and that makes him upset. They say he’s got self-destructive tendencies, history of minor self-harm and stuff like that, you know?”

Ray nods. He knows all about self-destructive tendencies and histories of self-harm. He isn’t sure that he’s ready to share this information with Gavin, however, so he stays silent as Michael makes his way over to the couch.

“Hey Gav, who’s the new kid?”

Ray raises his eyebrows. Michael’s voice is instantly recognisable, even without the shitty headset frequency. It’s that same tone, abrasive but genuine. “Michael Jones?” he asks. Michael frowns.

“Yeah, what’s it to you?”

“I’m… I’m Ray- Brownman!”

Michael’s eyes widen and his face breaks out into a grin. “Ray! No way!” He laughs, pulling Ray up and into a tight hug. “What’re you doing here?”

Michael throws himself onto the couch, briefly lifting Gavin’s leg out of the way before letting it settle back onto his lap. He holds Gavin’s calf firmly, thumb stroking at the cheap cotton of his regulation pants. Ray doesn’t miss the way Gavin shifts closer to Michael, eyes suddenly narrowed and suspicious when they settle on Ray again.

“I’m sick I guess.” Ray forces out a laugh, scratching at his arm. He doesn’t like the way the itchy-t-shirt doesn’t cover his forearms, leaving his scars on display for everyone to see. But then, he looks at Michael and they match. Michael’s aren’t as frequent looking as his, but his ivory skin makes them red and angry and instantly noticeable. Ray relaxes. “Long story short, I tried to kill myself.”

“No way!” Michael’s brow knits, concerned. “Dude, I’m glad you didn’t. I’ve been waiting to get out of here so we could finally meet up in New York!”

“You still wanted to do that?” Ray asks, excitement bubbling despite himself. “I thought you’d forgotten about me. You just… disappeared one day. Wouldn’t answer any of my texts.”

“They took everything off me when I came here- we’re barely allowed to play Xbox if we’ve been good, but nothing online. They don’t want us communicating with the outside world.” Michael scoffs, glaring over at a male nurse who stands against a wall, ‘supervising’ them. Ray sighs.

“Yeah, well I can sort of see why. We must be the craziest kids in the country to be sent all the way down to Texas.”

Michael nods wordlessly. Gavin remains silent, but his hands grip in fists by his sides. Before the silence can get too awkward, two other boys walk over. They look older than Michael and Ray and Gavin, one sporting facial hair and the other drenched in tattoos. As far as he was aware, none of the other boys in the institute would be over eighteen- but the boy with the tattoos and the messy black hair and the piercing blue eyes makes him question that fact.

“Geoff, Jack- this is Ray!” Michael introduces them with a smile, oblivious to the threatening vibe settling over the couch. Jack and Geoff are like the Alpha lions of the pride, Michael and Gavin seem to be the cubs and Ray’s a fucking hyena who walked too far out into the savannah and is about to be eaten alive.

“Good to meet you, kid.” The dark haired boy, Geoff says extending a hand. Nervously, Ray shakes it. Geoff’s handshake is surprisingly loose and casual, barely a squeeze of palms before his arms fly back to his sides. He drags a chair over as the other boy, Jack, gives Ray a firm but oddly _nice_ handshake and smiles at him warmly.

Maybe they’re not such lions after all.

“I’m severe OCD and minor bipolar- he’s mild antisocial personality disorder and self-destructive behaviour.” Jack states cheerily nodding to Geoff briefly before smiling back to Ray. “What about you?”

“Uh,” Ray stutters. He doesn’t remember getting the memo about the open disorder policy in this place, but everyone seems so chill about it all- he doesn’t suppose it can hurt much to share. “Depression, mostly- I think? Anxiety. They say I’ve got the whole self-destructive tendencies bullshit too. I don’t know.” He shrugs. Jack’s smile doesn’t drop; Geoff watches him curiously.

Geoff smiles ( _is_ that a smile? It’s more of a dirty smirk, a barely-there flash of teeth through thin pink lips.) “He missed the criminal tendencies and mild kleptomania.” He says, digging into his pockets and fishing out a thin ladies watch. The silver is polished and shiny, and Ray catches his reflection as it dangles from Geoff’s palm like a pendulum. “Swiped this off a nurse this morning.” He states, proudly.

“Geoff,” Jack chides. “You better give that back.”

“I will I will- sheesh! Get off my back, mom.” He rolls his eyes playfully. “Classic Jack, you know him!” says his eyes and his body language. Ray says nothing with his eyes nor his body language or even his mouth- he just swallows nervously. Geoff and Jack seem okay, but he’s already met two (one and a half? Did Michael really count as new?) people today and two more feels like two too many.

“You really stole that?” he settles on after a while, willing the flames in his brain to cool and to dissipate. Geoff eyes him curiously for a second, eyes darting around Ray as if to gain as much information as possible. It makes Ray’s stomach turn, but in a good way.

“Yep.” Geoff eventually replies, swinging the watch around his finger once before slipping it back into his pockets. “I’ve got pretty nimble fingers- that’s how I ended up here. They said it was here or jail, so.” He shrugs, like it’s the most every-day thing in the world. They’re sitting in a high security mental hospital for _really fucked-up boys_ but- it’s better than prison, _right_?

Just another day in the office, really.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

The rest of the day is relatively successful, for Ray. He doesn’t have a panic attack, doesn’t cut himself- not because he doesn’t want to, mainly because he physically can’t. They eat with plastic forks and knives at dinner, so that’s a no go and nothing else is remotely sharp enough to inflict any real harm. Even the pages of the books are bible-thin and flimsy, unable to do any harm whatsoever. The meds he’d been forced to take twice throughout the day (one time angry and red, the next time a calming blue) had made him feel lucid and sleepy.

Ray hasn’t really slept in months. When his eyes are just beginning to close, ceiling becoming blurred mess of uneven paint, a thought springs to him.

_Ryan._

Where had the other boy been all day? Ray hadn’t seen him in the ‘lounge’ as Gavin had called it. He hadn’t seen him when they all lined up to receive their meds. He hadn’t seen him when they all sat down in the cafeteria and ate bland tomato pasta together either.

 _There’s not much I’m allowed to do around here at all, to be honest._ Ryan says to him in his dream that night.


	2. The New Normal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ray begins to adjust to life in the institute, but questions regarding Ryan still find a way to plague his mind.

Chapter II

 

 

 “Ryan?” Ray tries again. Michael and Gavin only blink at him in response, vacant expressions coating their faces across the breakfast table. Ray groans, rubbing his face.

“He’s got like… blue eyes? Average height- like, taller than me but shorter than Jack, I guess. He’s…” Ray pauses for breath. What else does he know about Ryan that could warrant its way into his description? They had only ever met the once.

Michael and Gavin continue to give him void stares, and he sighs, loud enough to catch the attention of a nurse across the room- her hawk like eyes darting to him concernedly. Ray ignores her.

“He speaks French-” he adds. “Oh, and he smokes cigarettes. Took me up to a balcony.”

“Dude, I’m drawing a total blank.” Michael shrugs. Then, he turns to the boy beside him. “What about you Gav?” he asks. Gavin shakes his head, nibbling at the edge of his slice of toast. He barely appears focused on the conversation at all from the mention of _French,_  quickly becoming distracted by the way the breeze carries the curtains across the room.

“Nope.” Michael turns back to Ray. “No Ryans. If I didn’t know, Gav sure as hell would- he’s been here for a year.”

“Geoff’s been here for longer.” Gavin adds, mouth half full. Ray turns to where Geoff and Jack sit behind him, in quiet conversation with another boy. Michael waves and Geoff waves back.

“Hey- Geoff! The name Ryan ringing any bells?”

Geoff shakes his head, shrugs apologetically and turns back to his yogurt and conversation. Jack crunches down on an apple and the sound pierces Ray’s ears. He only becomes over-sensitive to noise like this when he’s anxious, and if he’s feeling anxious at seven thirty am- he knows today is not going to be one of his good days.

“Sorry man.” Michael says. “No Ryan.”

“At all?” Ray is deflated. He shoves his half eaten breakfast plate to the side and leans his elbows on the table, head resting on his palms. Michael flashes him a dimpled smile- his way of apology. “I _saw_ him,” Ray mutters. “I fucking spoke to him. I can’t be going crazy.”

“Dude- chances are, in here… you already are.” Michael laughs. Ray doesn’t reply, just watches silently with a cloudy expression as Gavin, fist clutched tightly, tosses his plastic spoon across the room. A nurse rushes over immediately, bouncing around Gavin like a bee on LSD, but after a few unresponsive glances from Gavin, she sighs, ruffles his hair and whispers for him to be more sensible with his frustrations. Gavin’s only action is to lay his head against Michael’s shoulder, sighing softly.

Michael doesn’t appear fazed, so Ray assumes that perhaps this kind of thing happens a lot. He strokes Gavin’s shoulder softly with his thumb and Ray’s scars itch on his skinny arms.

“Ray Narvaez?” a voice calls. Ray’s head turns to see another nurse, male this time calling him over with a clipboard in his hands. Ray fumbles to stand up, Michael’s whispered _good luck_ sending nerves shooting through his spine.

Therapy with Dr Burns is daunting at first. There’s a long corridor leading up to a sign-in desk with an over-friendly receptionist and uncomfortable wooden chairs that are probably fuckign designed to promote anxiety. Eventually, the minute’s tick over and the blonde lady smiled widely at him, nodding to give him the signal. _You can go in now_ , her eyes say.

Ray swallows, nerves wracking his body as he steps foot into Dr Burns’ office. The room is rustic, every available surface obnoxiously wooden. Wooden desk, polished wooden walls and wooden cabinets and bookshelves surrounding said walls. In front of the desk, a wooden couch with plush velvet cushions. It’s grand and flashy and fairly tacky, he notes as he stares at his own reflection in the mirrored brass of Dr Burns’ sign that sits proudly on his desk. _Dr Burns, Chief Administrator._

Ray wonders what his own name-sign would say. _Ray Narvaez Jr; Fucked Up Kid._

“Ray.” Dr Burns smiles widely, pushing paperwork aside into a messy pile at the edge of his cluttered desk. He pulls a pristine sheet of white paper out of a brown folder, Ray’s name visible in black ink across the top. “How are you feeling?”

The age old question that Ray has never truly quite grasped the concept of how to answer. Psychiatrists like Dr Burns can always tell if you’re lying- but then even when you tell the truth there’s the hint of insincerity, the underlying doubt that you’re never showing your full hand. In Ray’s numbered experiences, psychiatrists have never been much help for him.

Dr Burns is… _different_ to say the least.

His approach is a little off the wall, a little wacky. He swears when he knocks his coffee to the ground, calls Ray _kid_ like a loveable uncle, asks him how he’s eating, tells him to avoid the third floor bathrooms because he thinks he saw a mouse in their a few weeks back. He talks to Ray less like a doctor- and more like a parent’s friend, or a gym coach. It’s oddly refreshing.

“So what _is_ your goal, Ray?” Dr Burns ( _Please, in our sessions- Burnie is fine!)_ asks him as their session rounds to a close. How quickly the hour had flown by, laid out on the plush couch spilling stories about his experience. He’d left out all the Ryan stuff- not wanting to come across too psycho too soon. That was something he was going to have to get to the bottom to himself before he so dared as the branch the subject with his shrink.

“Ray?”

“Sorry.” Ray sits up. “Sorry… uh, my goal? Just…  just to uh, get home as soon as possible- you know. Get better- I guess.” It feels like a lie, and Burnie gives him the _I-know-you’re-holding-back_ psychiatrist look, but it doesn’t faze him. Besides, there’s an inkling of truth in his statement at least. Home is painful, sure- but being in the institute is worse and makes him feel like a freak. No nearly normal kid would fit into a high security institute of ‘troubled boys’ as quickly as he had.

“I hope you make it Ray. I honestly do.” Dr Burns closes his file and places his pen down on the desk. “Keep taking your meds- eat, and make sure you participate. Make friends. Time will fly.”

Ray looks at Dr Burns. Suddenly, he knows how it feels to be the psychiatrist when the patient feeds you _bullshit_.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Ryan’s eyes look the prettiest in the dark hallways when they catch the light of a stream of moonlight through an open window. They’re so ridiculously remarkable and easy to fall into, they make Ray insecure about his flat dark eyes. He’s always been told his face is impossible to read due to the darkness of his eyes. They are empty and hold no emotion.

Ryan’s eyes hold an emotion that he can’t quite put his finger on. It isn’t anger, but it’s something similarly wild and unpredictable. Ryan tugs him by the wrist down some stairs into a dusty old basement that they’re surely not allowed in. The room is filled with clutter from the decades past, stacks of boxes creating makeshift hallways in the open space. Ryan leads him to an unremarkably adorable set up, two leaking beanbags and an old projector pointed at a pull down dusty white screen.

He gets comfortable on Ryan’s request and watches as the older boy fumbles with a reel of film until eventually, the contraption splutters to life and casts a sepia saturated image of a countdown in front of them. Music plays quietly, and Ray recognises the old school Mickey Mouse, bouncing across the screen.

“I like cartoons.” Ryan shrugs. “This is the best I could find down here, but I figured you’d maybe like them.”

“I prefer video games.” Ray tries embarrassingly to play it cool. Ryan whisking him downstairs to watch old cartoons on a projector is straight out of every movie he never saw and makes him want to swoon. “But these are pretty cool.”

Ryan shoots him a wicked grin, and they settle into silent companionship as the film plays out. It’s only short, twenty or so minutes at the most and when the projector eventually coughs and the reel snaps, Ryan doesn’t bother slipping another disc in. Instead, he turns to Ray and smiles.

They stay silent, until Ray grasps the fact that Ryan wants _him_ to start the conversation.

“I was asking about you today.” _Solid_ _start_ , _Narvaez. Sounds like a completely fucking stalker, because why not?_ Ryan looks at him with a suspicious glare, and Ray kicks himself mentally. “You weren’t in the longue or anything so… I asked the others if they knew anything about you.”

“You were asking the others if they _knew_ stuff about me? Why?” Ryan’s questions are short and sharp and make Ray feel like he’s opposite some kind of _Bad-Cop_ with a spotlight shining in his face.

“Uh, because you fucking mysteriously showed up at my room in the middle of the night and then disappeared, so…” he shrugs, playing it off casually because that’s the only defence mechanism he’s ever been able to pull off well. “-but don’t worry,” he adds. “-you’re fucking creepy invisible demeanour still holds up because nobody fucking knew what I was talking about.”

A strange smile creeps over Ryan’s face. He laughs. “Good.”

“So…?”

“So what?”

Ray groans. “So why doesn’t anyone fucking know who you are, that’s what?” he turns slightly, body facing Ryan’s completely. Ryan barely tilts his head in his direction, grinning at him with wild eyes.

“Because,” he says. “I’m a ghost.”

“Fucking come on, be serious.” Ray laughs. Ryan rolls his eyes.

“Because I don’t want them to know me. Not the real me, anyway.”

Ray squirms a little at that, pushing himself to sit up properly in the beanbag chair. He’s become far too relaxed with Ryan far too quickly, and it surprises him to no end because he never exactly been a trusting person.

“Why me then?” he asks. He doesn’t want to admit to himself that he’s a little scared of the answer.

“I saw you getting admitted here.” Ryan comments flippantly, as if recalling a story of what he had for lunch. “I thought you seemed… different from the usual schmucks.” He waves a hand vaguely. Ray frowns. If there’s one thing he hates- it’s being _special._

“I’m gonna be just another kid with depression man. Nothing interesting about me.”

“That’s the most interesting thing though.” Ryan perks up a little, swinging his uncoordinated body around to face Ray. His arms rest on his knees and his body leans forwards, smirk of a madman pulling Ray closer like a magnet.

“You have all the…” His eyes drift briefly to Ray’s exposed skinny arms, back up his chest and then again to his eyes. “-capabilities to be your average cry baby cutter but you’re not… you just seem… normal.”

“Normal is boring.” Ray mumbles.

“Hey, for a guy like me, who’s never been normal a single day of my life,” Ryan’s smirk is like a dripping liquid, and it curls into an interested grin. “-normal is the _dream_.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Ray doesn’t see Ryan again the next day, but instead of trying to ask around like last time and end up looking like a lunatic (like he’d be in there if he was anything less) he decides to hand around with Michael and Gavin and the other members of the tight-knit group of four that they have.

It starts just he and Michael, rinsing their way through co-op missions in _Halo_ and talking loosely about themselves. Ray doesn’t give too much away (as usual) and Michael talks him over the rules of the place (don’t leave your room after ten, if you don’t eat two nights in a row you get put on food watch, if you’re physically ill fucking _tell somebody_ otherwise in such a small environment they all catch it- the usual) and then, also the unspoken rules. Don’t talk about alcohol in front of Geoff, don’t ask Jack about his High School yearbook and do _not_ under any circumstances, even if you’re kidding, call Gavin a whore, a slut, an attention seeker or _different_. He says the last note about Gavin with a steely gaze and a deathly seriousness that makes Ray tense.

“You and Gavin are pretty good friends, huh?” he asks. Michael nods.

“He… needs a lot of attention a lot of the time otherwise he freaks out. He likes hanging out with me and I like knowing he’s okay. That’s all.”

 _That’s all_ sounded grossly underwhelming when talking about something that seemed so close to home and important, but Ray wasn’t there to judge Michael for his caregiver complex. Michael Jones was a fucked up kid but Gavin was probably worse- and the fact he spent so much time worrying about the other was nice.

Ray wonders if anyone would ever worry about him like that.

Ray can’t even be annoyed when Michael abandons the game and runs after Gavin, after The Brit had asked him something and he’d replied (on instinct) _fuck off_. Ray just sighs and quits out after a few minutes when it becomes clear that Michael isn’t coming back- Jack and Geoff giving him quietly apologetic looks from across the room where they’re playing cards.

Ray never learnt to play cards so he declines their offer to join and wanders out into the gardens. It’s mandatory (apparently) that all hospitals like theirs have an outside space for them to live and breathe around when shit gets too much. Nothing worse than a bunch of crazies locked away day and night with nothing to do but each other.

He is alone, mostly, until he notices a chubby kid sitting in the grass, hunched over a sketchpad.

“Hey.” He says, after a few minutes of silent observation. The kid doesn’t seem to be sketching, just drawing somebody. A cartoon, but not one that Ray recognises. At the sound of Ray’s voice, eh flinches slightly, before turning around and looking up.

“Not many people come out here.” He says. Ray smiles, making his way slowly through the grass until he sits down, cross legged at a somewhat safe distance. He doesn’t know this kid, doesn’t know what he has or what he hasn’t got. If he tells Ray to fuck off, he will. He knows the feeling of being fucked with by your own brain, and the kids sceptical glare doesn’t soften.

“I’m new.” He shrugs. “I just found it. Ray, by the way.”

The kid’s face softens in an instant, and Ray suddenly feels like he’s the anxious one, fingers playing roughly in the grass and yanking out the blades.

“So _you’re_ Ray. Cool. I’m Patrick.”

“Nice to meet you, Patrick.” Ray nods slowly, unsure what to feel at the notion that Patrick seems to know who he is. “Uh… is this the part where we have the what are you in for chat, or are you not down with that?”

Thankfully, Patrick lets out a short laugh. “I’ve got multiple emotional disorders. I won’t bore you with the details, it’s not that interesting.”

“Same here.” Ray’s smile matches Patrick’s own. “What’re you drawing?”

“One of the nurses. Blaine this time- or nurse Gibson, sorry. I like drawing cartoons.” Patrick rambles, flicking through his notepad, showcasing a flurry of coloured and illustrated drawings that even at a glance have Ray’s eyes blown wide.

“That’s fucking awesome dude!”

“I draw everyone here.” Patrick shrugs. “Now I know what you look like, I can draw you too. When I’m done with Blaine, obviously.”

“Obviously.” Ray agrees. “Thanks though, dude. That’s cool.”

“You’re friends with Michael, right?” Patrick asks. Ray nods. “Yeah. Michael and Gavin are your friends- I’ve seen you with them a bunch of times. Why aren’t you with them now?”

Ray squirms a little under Patricks gaze. The attention the other kid has to detail is a little unnerving, but Ray guesses that being an artist who cartoon-ises people’s likeness as well as Patrick seems to has to know enough of what they look like to make it accurate.

“Michael snapped at Gavin, Gavin freaked out. Michael ran after him and I didn’t feel like getting in the middle.” Ray rubs his fingers over the hard leather sole of the white shoes given to him by the hospital. They’re almost shaped like his favourite vans, black-and-white checkerboard, and with a biro pen, he’d let Gavin draw stupid hearts all over them only a few days before.

“Sounds like them.” Patrick flips though his sketchbook to a drawing of Michael and Gavin, relaxing in tubes and floating in some kind of pool, wide smiles on their faces. Ray grins at the excited look on cartoon-Gavin’s face and the angry scrawl of cartoon-Michael’s thick eyebrows. “You really got them good.” He laughs. “Why are they tubing?”

Patrick shrugs. “It’s what they asked for. How comes you ended up out here alone- I thought you were friends with Geoff and Jack too?”

“I am.” Ray nods. “But they were playing cards and I don’t know how to play, so I thought I’d… explore. I was…” he glances down at the grass again, small green pile of tugged out blades beside him. The lengthy patches tickle his wrist as he reaches over to a separate patch of green, picking at the tiny, barely bloomed daisies in the soil. “I was looking for someone. Another friend of mine, but he isn’t here.”

“Who’s that?” Patrick asks, taking the drawing pad back. Ray sighs. He’s learnt this lesson already- that Ryan’s a fucking ghost or a figment of his imagination or whatever, because for some reason, nobody fucking knows who he is.

“You wouldn’t know him.”

“I’ve been here four years,” Patrick scoffs, rolling his eyes and holding up four soft fingers. “I know _everybody._ Try me.”

Ray pulls his fingers from the grass, and locks them together in his lap. The picked daisies sit in a neat pile beside the picked grass, and as the wind gently picks up, the two piles merge together.

“His names Ryan-”

“Brownish hair…” Patrick flicks through his sketchbook. “-crazy blue eyes?” Ray nods, looking over as Patrick flicks to an explosion of a page, a giant cartoon Ryan staring at him with the only visual explanation of his insanity Ray could ever imagine in the palm of his hand.

“That’s him.”

 “I know Ryan.” Patrick smiles, and the three words wash over Ray like the cure to a disease. With the year or so that he’s had, it’s nice to know that for _once_ , he isn’t the fucking crazy person.

“Dude, how?” He laughs in relief and falls backwards into the grass, lying flat on his back. “Everyone around here acts like they have no fucking clue who he is when I ask!” his hands come up to rest behind his head, and Patrick watches quietly above him.

“He keeps himself to himself.” He says, somewhat cryptically. “Most people don’t even know Ryan’s here, but he likes things that way.” Ray frowns, but doesn’t have the chance to push for more as Patrick collects up his book and his pencils. He leaves with a smile and not much else, disappearing back into the building.

It only occurs after he’s gone, that Ray never even got the guy’s last name.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

It’s night, but Ray cannot sleep.

Being in the hospital for long enough, he’s had the whole nurse rotor figured out, so once the clock ticks past midnight he stands up and stretches his back, before opening the door and creeping out into the hallway.

His intention is to find Ryan sulking about the corridors- now that he knows he’s real and not a dosed-up hallucination- but after half an hour of searching and finding approximately nothing, he wanders out towards the main longue.

It’s dark and silent, but faintly and in the direction of solitary, he can hear quiet whispering.

_“Yeah, yeah I know Gav. It’s okay. I’m here.”_

“Michael?” he calls out into the darkness.

“Ray? Over here!”

Ray follows the sound of Michael’s voice down a corridor where he finds his friend sat on the floor with his back against a door marked _SOLITARY_. Without an initial word, he slowly sinks down the wall and sits beside his friend on the cool concrete floor.

A faint sniffing sound is heard from the other side of the door, and Michael watches Ray with a tired expression. “Gav’s in there.” He explains quietly. “We share a room usually and he can’t get to sleep without me.”

“So you’re just gonna wait out here all night?” Ray asks. Michael shrugs, a yawn tugging its way from his throat. “Maybe,” he nods. “I’ll wait as long as it takes.”

“Michael?” Gavin’s voice is impossibly small and nervous-sounding. “Are you still there?”

Michael turns to the door, resting his palm flat against the wood. “Of course I am, Gav. You know I would never leave you. Put your hand against the door and you’ll be able to feel mine through it.”

After a few sniffles and some silence, Michael looks back over to Ray, who grins at him through the darkness.

“You’re a good friend, Michael.”

Michael nods, and looks back at the door as if he can watch Gavin through it. “I know.” He says quietly, so Gavin can’t hear. “He needs me, you know? And I need him too. You’ll find something like that, once you’re here for a while. You’ll have someone you need.”

“I think I already do.” Ray whispers. Michael doesn’t ask, and Ray is more than thankful, because he isn’t sure how he would possibly even begin to explain it.

               

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and comments appreciated as always !
> 
> Q: what do you think about Michael and Gavin's relationship? Do you think Patrick's reveal helped settle Ray or just made him more curious?


	3. Barely Chaste

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Ray's first month ticks over, things start getting better. Ryan, however, only gets more complicated.

CHAPTER III: Barely Chaste

 

 

 

 “I’m… feeling better. Definitely better.”

He tells Dr Burns not just what he likely wants to hear. Dr Burns isn’t really the same as the other mind-numbing shrinks he’s seen, and Ray come to terms with this quickly once the initial few awkward therapy session are over. By his first completed month, he’s figured it all out. Dr Burns will only respect and trust him when he can confidently believe that Ray tells him the absolute truth.

So Ray spends some time working on being less of a filthy fucking liar.

“Honestly, Dr Burns- I’ve been feeling better and I haven’t really had like the urge to… you know-”

“Harm yourself?”

Ray gulps. He’s been getting better, sure- but it doesn’t make it easier to just _say_ things like _self-harm_ out loud. In the hospital, it’s easy to distract yourself from the urges, but within the four wooden walls of Burnie’s office, it always finds a way to sit at the forefront of his mind. “Yeah.” He nods. “That.”

“And why is that?” Dr Burns leans forwards, resting his elbows on the desk. A half-eaten sandwich sits abandoned between them, and Ray finds it easier to watch the mayo drip onto the plate than to stare into Burnie’s eyes, which always beg him for confession.

“I… I don’t know. Just been busy thinking, I suppose.” Ray shrugs.

“What about?”

He wants to lie- he really does, but he knows that Dr Burns won’t play that game with him. He won’t listen to Ray talk shit about finally realising that it’s _all in his head_ just so he can get his pay-check. Dr Burns is a benevolent force that Ray doesn’t yet fully comprehend, and he really doesn’t want to fuck with someone quite as powerful as that.

“It doesn’t matter.” He decides on. Somewhere between a lie and a truth. The middle ground between heaven and hell.

“Have you been thinking about your family?”

Ray can at least answer that one completely honestly. He scoffs. “Absolutely not.”

 

* * *

 

 

 

_Ray –_

_Meet me in the basement after final room checks._

_R x_

 

* * *

 

 

 

Not being such a filthy liar is hard when you’re leant against your door, desperately listening for the final room checks to concede, the shuffle-slip of nurses sensible shoes hitting the linoleum floors. Then goes the light switch, and then- finally- the door.

Ray waits an extra six minutes for safety, before zipping up his hoodie and pulling warm socks over his feet. Then, he slips out of his room and pads across the building towards the dusty basement. He’d been told, mostly by Michael and occasionally by the nurses to avoid the basement. It was damp and dark, probably laced with asbestos as the building was well over a hundred years old. When talking about it, Gavin had gone all wide eyed and proclaimed (much to the dismay of the paranoia patients) that it was actually haunted.

But Ray doesn’t believe in ghosts, so he pushes the heavy door open and tiptoes down the cool stairs. The basement isn’t much at all- just a dusty damp room full of old sports equipment and busted TVs and beds and then, in the middle, Ryan Haywood. He looks beautiful, triumphant- glorious even- despite the fact that he’s only being illuminated by the swinging bulb above his head- stood between two beanbag cushions sat facing a TV. However, when spotting what lies underneath the TV, Ryan’s beauty is easy to look over.

“You got a fucking _Xbox_ down here now?”

Ryan smirks.

“You said you liked games. I thought we could play together.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Ryan turns out to be quite fucking good at video games. Not _as_ good as Ray of course- but he’s clearly grown up with them. He doesn’t have to look at the controller to figure out his B from his Y and he doesn’t ask for clarification when Ray whisper-shouts for him to hit _right-bumper_ whilst they play a co-op mission in _COD._ Then, done with the teamwork, they go for some more head to head stuff for the better part of an hour, until the watch on Ryan’s wrist ticks over to midnight.

“I concede.” Ryan raises the controller above his head. “You’re too good.”

“I’m okay.” Ray shrugs, leaving the controlled on the cool floor. He shifts in his beanbag to face Ryan, who smiles so gently at him- he forgets the kid is locked up in a mental hospital. Ryan’s probably ten times crazier than he is, that’s clear from the wildness in his eyes. Also, the fact that nobody seems to have a clue who he is must mean something is _very_ wrong with him- because he clearly isn’t supposed to mix with the others.

Ray likes very wrong. Ray likes mysteries and ghost stories and so far, his only clue has come from an artist in the garden with a sketchpad. Patrick knew Ryan- name, eyes, look. Patrick is the only lead he’s got.

“Penny for your thoughts?”

Ray gulps. “Patrick,” he says, confidently. The confidence is promptly stripped when Ryan’s brow furrows and his entire body stills. “Uh… Patrick. I spoke to him in the garden a little while ago. Nice guy.”

“Did he mention me- at all?” Ryan asks hastily. Ray looks away from his piercing gaze.

“Uh… I asked him.” He confesses. Ryan tenses. “Wait- wait.” Ray waves his hand. “Relax, dude. I just asked if he knew you- I don’t know if you know this, but you’re still sort of a fucking ghost up there.” He glances at the ceiling.

Ryan leans backwards into the beanbag. “Good.” He says, after a long pause. Ray dares to let his eyes flick back over, and watches Ryan stare pensively into nothing, fingers pressed against his lips tightly for a few more seconds until he sighs, and his gaze turns friendly again. “Ha.” He hums. “Maybe I need to relax. Maybe I need a drink or something.”

“Bleugh.” Ray pokes his tongue out. “Alcohol? Gross.”

Ryan’s eyebrow arches neatly. “Not a fan?” he asks. Ray shakes his head.

“I hate it.” He bites his lip.

“It’s pretty awful.” Ryan agrees with a nod and a smile. It’s been a while since Ray met anyone who shared his views on alcohol and its complete pointlessness. He’d watched alcohol ruin his father’s life- but then, most people couldn’t even comprehend what that would be like.

“The awful part is what it does to people.” He says eventually, and Ryan’s eyes dart back over to his. He doesn’t say anything exactly- but his eyes speak all the words he needs to convey. _I understand_ , they scream. _I know how you feel._

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Once Gavin is free from his extended stay in his solitary prison the microcosm feels balanced again, and Ray watches him with a smile, flitting about the lounge like a moth. However, it’s not hard to notice the way that he doesn’t stray far from Michael’s side and avoids video games all together. Aside from that, he’s seemingly back to his usual self- leant against Michael with his feet irritating Ray on the other side of the sofa.

Gavin is out, but the universe likes to have balance so Geoff is in. When Jack strolls over to the couch to chat with them, Ray innocently asks why Geoff had been sent away.

Jack sighs. “He got caught, trying to steal a golden cross from somebody’s room.” He explains as Gavin and Michael stand wordlessly and wander away together, hand in hand. Jack doesn’t give them much of a second look, just settled down on the lumpy couch beside Ray, who then asks,

“But… why would Geoff do something like that? I thought he was getting better?”

Jack shrugs. “He can’t help it.” He explains, picking up the Xbox controller and turning it over in his hands. “Geoff, like all of us, has good days and bad days. Even if we take all our meds every day nothing is ever going to be magically fixed. You’ve just got to learn to live with it.”

“Well,” Ray smiles. “You’re pretty calm for someone who’s got OCD and Bipolar.”

Jack doesn’t reply, fingers grazing over every button on the controller lightly before holding down the X and turning it on. “I guess today I’m having a good day.” He shrugs. Then, after an awkward pause, he turns to face Ray again. “Have you spoken to Gavin about his little stint in the box?”

“The box?”

“Solitary.” Jack clarifies. “Sorry. It’s a stupid nickname Geoff gave the room because its plain and square. He spends enough time in there, I suppose.”

“Oh, right.” Ray nods. “No. I figured Gav didn’t want to talk about it.”

“He’s sorry.” Jack says offhandedly. “For flying off the handle about you and Michael. They’re pretty inseparable because Michael joined barely a week after Gavin. He’s pretty attached and when you came in and you and Michael had history I think he just felt a little…”

“Jealous?” Ray tries. Jack nods and gives him a small smile.

“Yeah.”

“Huh.” Ray sighs quietly, controller still dormant in his hands. “I guess he’s got nothing to worry about. I think Michael would pick Gavin over me in a heartbeat.”

“Hey,” Jack nudges him with his soft shoulder. “Don’t go around thinking like that. Place like this- who knows what other disorder they’ll think you’ve caught.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

The next session he has with Dr Burns is uneventful.

He’s more quiet than before, and Dr Burns notices straight away. He probes Ray with thoughtful questions about his home life and his parents, but Ray’s far too busy thinking about Michael and Gavin and most of all- Ryan to bother dwelling on something so trivial as his _home_. He’s been slightly hesitant for a while, wondering if he opens up too much, they might actually consider him sane and release him before he has a chance to get to the bottom of the _Ryan Haywood mystery._

“Your mom wants to visit Ray.” Dr Burns rocks back in his orthopaedic desk chair and leafs through a call log file. He isn’t reading the words however- his eyes are completely fixated on Ray, who look away from Dr Burns piercing gaze and stares at a painting of a cow on the wall.

“Do you want to see her?” Dr Burns asks.

“Nah.” Ray shakes his head. “Save her the trouble of making the trip up here. I don’t want to see her yet.”

Part of it is true, part is a lie. Ray leaves it up to Dr Burns to figure out which is which.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Ray opens his eyes to hear a light tapping against his door. It’s long after lights out, and without a mysterious summoning note from Ryan he had retreated to bed. He wasn’t really sleeping, just lying flat with his eyes shut tightly, wishing he was anywhere else. Wishing he was with Ryan, wherever it was he slept. It’s hard to picture Ryan looking anything close to peaceful, but Ray imagines that he may look almost content in his sleep.

“Ryan?” he opens his bleary eyes and blinks a few times in the doorway as Ryan slips into the room. The older boy is as awake and alert as ever and Ray feels silly for even imagining him sleeping. Ryan probably doesn’t sleep- they probably keep him awake with clamps on his eyelids like in that Stanley Kubrick film he accidentally watched as a kid.

“Hey. Wanna see the meds I didn’t take today.” Ryan spits in his hand before Ray had a chance to answer. Four pills, one red, two blue and one white sit, spit-covered and partially disintegrated from sitting under his tongue rested in the palm of his hand. Ray laughs.

“You’re the worst.” He smiles, as Ryan slips the pills one by one through a crack in the bedroom wall. Then, Ryan joins him on the bed, sitting opposite him with his legs crossed. “How’d you ever expect to get out of here?”

“Please.” Ryan scoffs, and his eyebrows dance wildly. “They’ll never let me out.” He jokes.

Ray hopes it’s a joke.

“My mom wanted to visit me today.” He says, changing the subject and yawning quietly. “I said no though. Don’t really want her to have to come all the way up here just to be disappointed.”

“Disappointed?” Ryan asks. “Why in the hell would she be disappointed?”

“I don’t know.” Ray mumbles, shrugging and looking away from Ryan’s piercing gaze. “I guess I just feel bad because I’m the one that’s put her in such an awful situation. Like… I’ve let her down- you know.”

“Ray.” Ryan sighs, and gently, through the darkness Ray feels warm fingers touch his and hold onto them softly. “Sometimes things in life just suck. It isn’t your fault or anyone else’s that things went the way they did. Don’t beat yourself up about it.”

Before Ray has a chance to reply, let alone comprehend that Ryan is holding his hand- they hear a faint noise of someone- a nurse most likely, walking the halls. Ryan swears quietly under his breath and lets go, stalking up to the door and resting his ear against it for a few seconds.

“I have to go.” He says quietly. Ray stands, and follows him until they are awkwardly standing right next to each other in front of the closed door. After a while of just _looking_ , Ryan’s face breaks out into a smile. Even better- he’s smiling at _Ray_.

“Goodnight.” He whispers, and before Ray had a chance to unfreeze- he leans in and kisses Ray softly right on the corner of the mouth. It’s a barely a kiss- not enough to even be considered _chaste_ but Ryan’s already out the door and down the corridor before Ray has a chance to follow his lips and kiss him for real.

Perhaps it’s good enough.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See you next Tuesday!
> 
> Q: Do you think Ray should keep avoiding his mom? Are Ryan's advances to be trusted?


	4. Reservoir Dogs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With Michael and Jack locked away due to a brief dispute, Ray spends a little more time with Geoff and Gavin. Following that, Ryan has a sudden change of heart.

 

CHAPTER IV

 

 

 

“Where’s Michael?” Ray frowns, walking into the lounge following his morning group therapy session. He had left to discover Gavin and Geoff, sat together on the tiny sofa in front of the TV without the Xbox. “And…” he turns, glancing around the room. “Jack?”

“Solitary.” Geoff explains with a shrug. “They had a big argument about something dumb. There was a lot of yelling from both sides- Jack started freaking out, went for Michael, then Michael completely lost his fucking rag.” He shifts, closer to Gavin so Ray can sit on the other side of him as the TV continues to play. “The usual really.”

“No safety buddies for either of you, then?” Ray asks with a smirk. Gavin’s glassy eyes and Geoff’s stale glare are enough to shut him up. Instead he turns his attention to the TV screen, the tail end of _Reservoir_ _Dogs_ playing out in all of its slapdash coolness.

 “I’d love to go out like that, man. Like a heist or some shit. Start a crew or something.” Geoff muses. Ray scoffs at him.

“You’re crazy.”

“Aren’t we all?” Geoff nudges him with his shoulder, teasing. However, Ray gets the sense that to him, it isn’t really a joke at all. “You’re in here for a reason too, kid.”

Ray swallows, and chooses to say nothing.

 

* * *

 

 

 

When Ray enters his room after lights out to find Ryan already inside and waiting for him, his initial reaction is an overwhelming sense of relief. Visits from Ryan have been getting more frequent over the past week or so, and it’s frustrating, because Ray knows how close he is to getting _in_. Ryan’s a tough nut to crack, but after their barely-a-kiss he had been slowly opening up more and more about himself and his life B-I (before institutionalisation).

All Ray knows for sure is that Ryan is definitely crazy.

He sits on Ray’s bed with his feet flat on the floor, arms rested lazily on his knees. Ray sits next to him, but Ryan shifts away slightly as he does to rest against the wall, leaving Ray against the cool metal of the back of the bed.

“You okay?”

Ryan bumps his head audibly against the concrete wall. “Fine.” He says, curtly. Ray frowns.

“Uh… are you finally gonna tell me why you were admitted today?” He tries. Ryan looks away from the crack in the ceiling to glare at him, tired and lethargic with bloodshot wild blue eyes. He looks like he hasn’t slept in weeks.

“No.”

“Hey, look.” Ray empties his mouth into his hand in a desperate attempt at livening up the conversation a little. “I didn’t take my meds today.”

Ryan barely glances for a second. “Cool.” He says, but the lack of emotion in his tone tells Ray that really, he doesn’t think it’s that cool at all. Ryan sounds bored almost, which would be fine- if he wasn’t the one who chose to sit in Ray’s room and wait for him all night.

“Depression and Anxiety isn’t worth taking meds for anyway, you know,” Ryan shrugs. “You may as well pop sugar tablets. Doesn’t change a damn thing.”

“You know from experience?” Ray sets the damp pills on his nightstand. “Is that what you have? You know, why you were admitted?”

“I’m not telling you what I’ve got.” Ryan scoffs. “Or what I did to get thrown in here. Stop trying to be smart- it isn’t as cute as you want it to be.”

Ray rolls his eyes, and straightens his back a little, folding his arms over his chest.

“Well, fine. If you won’t tell me why I won’t tell you why either.” He announces, smugly. Ryan musters up the energy to look at him, a dangerous smirk and arched brow that makes Ray’s stomach turn and feel uneasy. He’s never seen Ryan like this- with that sadistic glint in his eyes, focused completely on him.

“You’ve already told me.” Ryan says.

Ray frowns. “No I haven’t.”

Then, Ryan laughs. _Loudly_. It’s loud enough for anyone down the hall to hear. The nurses will be doing final bed checks in an hour and Ray’s skin pimples just thinking about getting caught.

“Yeah, you have.” Ryan pushes his hair back. “You take the white oval one for some seriously severe depression. Red-and-white capsule is for moderate-to-severe anxiety, and fairly frequent panic attacks which I guess you get.” The dismissiveness in his tone as he drags his eyes briefly up and down Ray’s fragile body make his eyes prick with tears. It stings- the way Ryan reads him like a book to his face.

“I’ve seen the scars on your arms,” Ryan nods to his thin forearms, covered by his long sleeved pyjama top, and before Ray can say anything he reaches out and grabs his wrist, shoving his shirt sleeve up to his elbow so the fading white scars and scabby red ones are stark and seen. “So I _know_ that you cut.”

“Yeah, but I told you all that-” Ray says quietly, sniffing and pulling his arm away. Ryan leans forwards, and his smile only grows.

“You cut horizontally- but never vertical. So you’re fucked up enough to _cut_ , but you don’t actually want to kill yourself. Not really.” Ryan scratches at the pale skin of his forearm and smiles. “Thing is, Ray. You told me all this- and some of it I figured out myself. But you never _told_ me why, did you?”

Ray can’t think of anything to say to this _new_ Ryan. This surely isn’t the same boy that took Ray up to the balcony. This isn’t the boy who steals X-boxes just to make him happy. Ray isn’t sure he’s ever met this boy- this _Ryan_ , ever before.

Despite Ray’s lack of response, Ryan continues. “You have guilt issues with your mom so I guess she’s a single parent. Your dad walked out- didn’t he?”

Ray closes his eyes for a few silent seconds. “Stop it.” He says, eventually- but his voice is choked and small and embarrassingly _weak_.

“Daddy left because… alcoholic?” Ryan presses further, and Ray knows he’s just trying to get a rise. And it works- because Ray’s body stiffens, and without answering- he’s given all the answer Ryan needs. “Yes, alcoholic.” Ryan confirms to himself, pressing his hands together under his chin thoughtfully as the prickling sensation of hot tears flooding Ray’s eyes, making him squirm. “That’s why you hate alcohol, isn’t it?”

“Ryan, stop.” Ray sniffs. Ryan’s gaze on him only turns darker, and for the first time- Ray actually feels frightened of the boy sat beside him.

“You couldn’t handle it when he left because you thought he _loved_ you.” Ryan smirks. “And you thought that everything was so good until you came along and he left. You believed that you could only blame yourself to you started cutting, because that’s what you thought he wanted, Isn’t it?”

“Stop!” Ray shouts, scrambling further against the metal frame of the bedpost in an attempt to put as much space between he and Ryan as possible. “Ryan, stop it!”

“You thought he wanted you _dead_.” Ryan spits. “Well, I’m sorry Ray but you can _cut and cut_ until you are _bled dry_ but it isn’t going to change the fact that he _doesn’t love you_ and he’s _not_ coming back!”

Ryan’s yell echoes in the room and for a silent moment, Ray is still. He can hear the shuffling of nurses feet approaching his door for final room checks as Ryan stares at him, chest heaving and lip curled into a snarl like a wild animal.

So Ray does the only thing that, in the moment, sounds sane. He screams.

The nurse he knows as Lindsay, followed by the newer one _(Mike? Mark? Miles? It was probably Miles.)_ bust into the room just as his voice turns hoarse and Ryan’s gaze before heated, his mouth set into a hard frown.

Lindsay yells, “What are _you_ doing in here?” and it takes Ray a second to realise that it’s aimed at Ryan. He would almost feel relieved, if he wasn’t so confused and upset. Ryan’s _real_ \- other people that aren’t Patrick can _see_ him.

“Just visiting my friend.” Ryan says quietly.

“We’re not friends.” Ray shouts, hugging his knees tightly to his chest. “Make him leave!”

It’s mostly a blur, Miles grabbing Ryan and pulling him out the room as Ryan fights back, and then Lindsay, beautiful and vibrant in front of his eyes, checking him over for injury until he comes back into himself, and shakes her away.

“Did he hurt you?” Lindsay asks. Ray shakes his head, and rubs the tears away from his eyes.

“No.” he says, voice surprisingly level. “Not physically.”

“Hey, being hurt on the inside can be just as bad Ray.” Lindsay says, patting his shoulder gently for a second. “Anything he said that was hurtful, or mean- you can tell me, okay?”

When Ray looks at Lindsay, he doesn’t see the same calibre of game-player that he sometimes sees in Dr Burns. Lindsay Tuggey is one the good ones, apparently. In the depths of her eyes, he only sees a genuine wish to care.

“No, I’m fine,” he says. “Thank you, Lindsay. I think I just want to go back to bed.”

“Alright, Ray.” Lindsay smiles, straightening to stand. “If you want to talk about anything- just ask for me. Dr Burns will be informed about this incident but nobody else has to know, okay?”

“Yeah.” Ray nods, long after she’s left the room. “Nobody else has to know.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

By the next morning, Michael is still holed up in solitary confinement. According to Jack- who is now a free man, he and Michael had made their peace in a mandatory ‘conflict resolution’ session and were cooler than ever. But, unsurprisingly, Michael had some colourful language for a bunch of the nurses and got a few extra days in the hole.

“It’s not that bad really.” Jack sipped his water. “It’s just lonely. But, we’ve all been in and out. You’ll experience it eventually.”

Ray doesn’t listen to much else Jack says after that. The conversation is directed at all three of them- him, Geoff and Gavin- but only Geoff is listening. Ray can feel Gavin watching him as he itches at his wrists with cut fingernails and shifts in his seat.

It’s obvious what’s on his mind. Despite what he told Lindsay- Ryan’s words stung and they stung badly. Ray wants to feel the sting again- but locked up in a psychiatric hospital there isn’t really much opportunity for the kind of release he craves.

“Hey,” Gavin says quietly to him when they move to the sofa to play video games. “I know you really want to- but don’t do it.” He nods at Ray’s covered arms. “Trust me,” Gavin holds his own arm out, pulling down the sleeve to reveal a white bandage, wrapped around his wrist. It looks somewhat new- and Ray wonders where he found the time and the resources to hurt himself with both Michael and the nurses constantly safeguarding him. Perhaps with Michael locked up in solitary- Gavin found a few hours a little too lonely and seized his opportunity. “It’s not worth it.”

“I know.” Ray sighs, picking up a controller to distract his fingers more than anything. “Wanna play a few rounds of halo to distract me?”

Gavin beams at that, and wrestles the other controller from Geoff’s hands. Successfully, he and Ray distract each other.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

“How are you feeling?”

It’s a question Ray’s starting to get bored of, honestly. That’s all shrinks want to know, is how he’s _feeling_. He’s feeling terrible, obviously. He’s in a mental hospital. That should be obvious.

“I’m fine, honestly.” He says at the end of the session, Dr Burn’s _I-know-you’re-lying_ eyes bearing into him. “I just want to get better.” He insists.

So maybe it isn’t the whole truth. Maybe he doesn’t take his meds that day either and retreats to his room after lights out to spit them out in the palm of his hand and throw them to the dusty corner of the window pane.

At the sound of tutting, he turns.

Ryan steps, fittingly, from the shadows in the corner of the room. If his life were a Disney movie, Ray decides that Ryan really would make the most perfect villain.

“Get out.” He says, folding his arms across his chest. “Leave.”

“Ray-”

“Go!” Ray whisper-yells. “Or I’ll call the nurse.”

“Don’t!” Ryan holds his hands up defensively. Somehow- he looks different than their last encounter. Every part of his body and his face is the same- but it’s also different in the way he carries it. This version of Ryan doesn’t look at all malicious. Ray vows not to fall for it so easily.

“Look- I’m sorry.” Ryan says, and the crack in his voice can’t be rehearsed. It’s dark, but those blue easy can both light up and shadow- and they glow at Ray, genuinely pleading. It’s confusing, to say the least. “I wasn’t myself last night.”

“What does that even mean?” Ray throws his arms up. “Nothing you ever says makes sense!”

“Just… come upstairs with me?” Ryan asks. “Up to the balcony?”

For a few seconds, Ray can only glare at him. “I’m not going anywhere with you.”

“Please!” Ryan pleased. “I want to explain myself. I want to explain everything to you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and Kudos appreciated as always!  
> Tumblr: PAPERSK1N.tumblr.com
> 
>  
> 
> Q: What do you think Ryan's going to say? Will he really tell Ray everything?


	5. Progress/Regress

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With Ryan's confession, Ray starts focusing on getting better. Little does he know, the path to recovery is never a straight rode and surprises lurk in every corner.

 

Chapter V: Progress/Regress

 

 

 

Ryan shifts nervously from foot to foot as he explains, standing up on the same balcony they had hung out on the first night Ray was admitted. Ray isn’t sure if he believes him at first, but there’s something in the way Ryan grips the wooden rail and fails to look him in the eyes that makes the whole thing impossibly true.

“They’re pretty sure by now that it’s a form of psychosis.” Ryan says. “I’ve got… like… personality disorders- plural. I can switch at the drop of a hat, it’s pretty unpredictable. I was admitted here after I murdered my neighbour’s dog… I really regret it.” He hangs his head, genuine, and fumbles in his pocket. “I love animals,” he turns to face Ray, pulling something white and wriggling out of his pocket. “his name’s Edgar. I found him in the basement.”

The little white mouse wriggles in Ryan’s gentle grip, but noses up fairly friendly when Ray reaches forwards to stroke the top of its tiny head. After that, Ryan tucks the mouse safely back in his pocket and again leans across the balcony, staring at the thick stretch of nothing surrounding the hospital and its grounds.

“That’s why I went… bad on you the other day. I like you a lot and it makes me nervous and when I get nervous… well- you saw what happened.” He sighs. “I’m really sorry.”

Slowly, Ray leans his head against Ryan’s bicep.

“I tried to kill myself by slitting my wrists in the bathtub but my mom found me before it was too late.” He says. “And now… I feel guilty because she’s tried so hard to be there for me and keep things normal after my dad walked out and now… I feel like I’ve let her down and made her think that everything she did… she failed to keep me safe.” He sniffs, and Ryan turns to cup his face gently.

“Look at me.”

Ray looks.

“It isn’t your fault that your brain is messed up and it your mom doesn’t hate you for it. The more you talk to her the easier it will be for things to get back to normal.” Ryan tells him. “I promise you, you’re not crazy Ray. You’re not a lost cause like I am.”

“Ryan.” Ray smiled through the tears that threatened to well in his eyes. “You’re _not_ a lost cause. I don’t think you’re crazy. Not at all.”

“Please, I’ve been here two years Ray. I’ve been kept away from the other kids for six months for _their_ safety. There’s no going back from that.”

“I think you can.” Ray shrugs with a sniff. “You’ve just gotta take your meds and do therapy and all that other bullshit and… you’ll be fine, I guess.”

Ryan smiles, and Ray quickly decides that it’s his favourite thing he’s ever seen.

“You really think that?” he asks.

“Yeah.” Ray replies. “I believe in you. Even if _you_ don’t believe in you.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Several weeks pass before Ray catches sight of Ryan again.

But in reality, those short weeks felt like years with the amount that had gone on between. The first development was that Jack Pattillo, everybody’s favourite OCD softie, had been _let out_.

“It’s been a long time since someone we knew got let out.” Michael had explained to him afterwards, as Geoff sat silently on the sofa with his knees hunched up to his chest. “People don’t get let out of here very often. Geoff’s been here longer than most and Jack didn’t join very long after him.” He looked over to Geoff again, as a nurse tried and failed to talk to him. Michael sighed, and hung his head slightly. “They were close.”

Ray couldn’t help but notice Gavin as Michael spoke, clutching onto Michael’s hand and staring at him with wide eyes like if he let go, even for a second, Michael would be next.

The second key development before Ray catches sight of Ryan again, is that he speaks to his mother. Ryan’s words still linger in the back of his fucked up brain about it maybe _not_ being his fault, so he caves to Dr Burns and talks to her on the phone a lot. She doesn’t blame him either, apparently. She doesn’t even blame herself- or at least- so she says.

The only real pro to not having Ryan as a constant distraction is that he has the chance to actually focus on participating a lot more. That had been his main criticism from Dr Burns- that he never wanted to _participate_. So Ray learns to participate more- takes his meds, listens to Dr Burns and actually follows his advice. He even sits in a few group therapy sessions, talking about himself and his life and his feelings without the usual intrusive thought that every other person in the room thinks he’s a complete psycho.

Michael smiles at him across the circle in his uncomfortably plastic chair, Gavin’s hand tightly in his. Ray smiles back, and it isn’t even forced.

“I see you’ve been improving a lot.” Dr Burns tells him. For once, Ray doesn’t even consider lying to him.

“Yeah- I’ve been doing some thinking, I guess.” He replies. Dr Burns raises his eyebrow, as if to silently ask _about what_ , or his usual favourite, _what does that mean?_

“Like- every time I wanna cut myself or… whatever- I just… don’t, you know? I think about something happy like my mom or my friends and I don’t… _want_ to do it. I guess.”

“The CBT is working then.” Dr Burns notes, scribbling something in his notebook. “Do you feel… _happier_?”

“Yeah.” Ray smiles. “I guess I do.”

“That’s fantastic.” Dr Burns smiles back at him, scribbling something about SSRI’s in his file. “And I see you’ve made some good friends here.” Ray’s brain flashes to Ryan, but he does his best not to ask Dr Burns about that directly. The last thing he needs is a formal order to keep Ryan as far away from him as possible. He silently decides to ask Lindsay about it- she’s the nicest of all the nurses, and probably the least likely to rat him out.

“Yeah.” He says, after a long thoughtful pause. “I knew Michael already from video games but Gavin and Geoff are cool too. Geoff misses Jack a lot but… he’s getting better.”

“That’s good. You’re all doing well, I can tell you that. We’re very proud of you all.”

At first, Ray doesn’t understand the strange feeling in his chest when Dr Burns says he’s proud. Maybe it has something to do with the serotonin tablets he’s taking or maybe it’s the fact that he never had a dad to tell him the same- but when he looks at Burnie, his heart lights up in a familial kind of love.

“Thank you Dr Burns.” He says, as the clock ticks over to the end of the session. “Seriously. Thanks.”

“No problem Ray. Send Geoff in on your way out.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

“Hey.” Ray nods at Michael and Gavin as he enters the main lounge. “Either of you two seen Nurse Lindsay?”

“She’s in the canteen, why?” Gavin asks. Ray smiles.

“Nothing. I just gotta ask her something.” He tells them with a lazy shrug. Michael and Gavin don’t pay much notice- they never really do until it counts. Instead, Gavin lays his head on Michael’s shoulder and Michael keeps his eyes forwards to the TV, but Ray can see his hand, softly stroking the side of Gavin’s leg.

Michael isn’t really Gavin’s safety buddy anymore. It’s clear as day, to Ray and everyone around them that whatever they have has grown into far more.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

“Nurse Lindsay!”

Lindsay turns, bright pink hair blinding in the white canteen and against her white dress. However, her smile is soft and friendly as her eyes fall on Ray, waving and calling her name.

“Ray, what can I help you with?”

“I need to ask you about someone.” He says. “A patient here.”

“Oh well- Ray, I can’t really tell you much about anyone that they don’t tell you. It’s all a confidentiality thing, and-”

“No, nothing like that. Just… uh, you know Ryan? I haven’t seen him in a few weeks and I was wondering where he was?” he asks. Lindsay frowns.

“Ryan?”

“Ryan.” Ray nods. “Blue eyes… brown hair? Ryan!”

“Ray.” She does her best not to stare at him like he’s completely lost his mind, but it doesn’t help. It’s all in her eyes, through the crack in her reassuring smile. Suddenly, Ray feels his stomach curl as the words he hasn’t imagined hearing since he and Ryan first met spill from Lindsay’s pink lips. “There isn’t anyone called Ryan staying here.”

“Ryan!” he repeats. He doesn’t intend for it to come about as a desperate shriek, but with other eyes quickly flying towards him in the canteen, it obviously does.

“Wait- Patrick knows who I’m talking about!”

Lindsay’s confused expression doesn’t change. “Patrick?” she asks. “As in Patrick Rodriguez?”

“I don’t know his last name. He like to draw and he knows Ryan- that’s all I really know about him.”

Lindsay stills, and slowly, her hand reaches out to rest on Ray’s shoulder. “Ray,” she looks him in the eyes, and the immediate pity and concern successfully shrinks Ray to the size of a pea, sodden and drowned in cheap gravy at the edge of Lindsay’s plastic late. “Patrick was let out weeks ago.”

Ray takes in a slow deep breath, as Lindsay’s eyes watch him like a devoted zookeeper for an agitated wild animal. “Just… forget about it.” He steps backwards, brushing her arm from him. “Forget I said anything.”

“Ray!” she calls after him, but it’s too late. Ray’s already gone- nothing but doubt if Ryan was ever even real at all plaguing his mind.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Ray didn’t rise from his bed until after lunch the next day. Lindsay had been in, followed by Miles and then even Brandon had tried, but he point blank refused to get up. He barely spoke to them, juts a nod and a mumble when they asked if he was okay and a vague groan and shake of the head when they asked if he needed to talk to someone.

However, once Lindsay threatened to call Dr Burns himself, Ray dragged himself from bed, showered and pulled itchy clothes over himself.

“Fuck.” Ray mumbles to himself. It’s the only thing he can think of saying as he slips out of his room and heads towards the main longue. He doesn’t want to talk to anyone, spare Ryan. If Ryan’s even real at all- that is.

He can hear Michael laughing from down the hall, but he isn’t particularly bothered about the joke. For now, all Ray wants is to curl up on the edge of the couch and sulk for a few days until he can get over all this _Ryan_ garbage and focus on getting the hell out of dodge.

“I’ve missed you buddy.” Geoff is laughing, patting someone on the back that Ray can’t quite make out, at first.

However, once he rounds the corner and the dreaded lumpy couch in front of the television comes into view, Ray’s heart stops. Gavin notices him first, but Ray isn’t looking at Gavin. How could he, when Ryan is fucking sitting there between Michael and Geoff, laughing and chatting like he’d been there all along?

Ray wonders if maybe, he really has completely lost his mind.

“Oh, Ray!” Gavin calls, scrambling off the edge of the couch to pull his stiff body over. Ryan glances up at him briefly, before turning away back to Geoff and continuing his conversation “This is James!” Gavin announces, pointing behind them both to Ryan. “He’s probably been here longer than any of us, but he’s been like on lockdown for a few months because he’s _super_ mental.”

“Hey! I prefer _chaotic neutral_!” Ryan calls over as Michael laughs harshly and Geoff beams a smile. Ray’s stomach twists as Gavin launches over to the couch, jumping into Ryan’s arms and wrestling him playfully.

“It’s all love, James.” He grins as Ryan ruffles his hair just before he scoots back to sit between Michael’s legs. “This is Ray, by the way.”

Ryan looks up to him, wide happy grin more unsettling than anything Ray has ever seen before.

“Hello, Ray. Nice to meet you.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mystery? Me? Never!
> 
> Hope you enjoyed this chapter and I'll see you next week, kudos&comments appreciated as always!!!
> 
> Q: What do you think is going on with the James/Ryan situation? Is Ray really getting out anytime soon? What do you think about Michael and Gavin's relationship and how it has progressed rapidly?


	6. James Ryan Haywood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ray begins his adjustment to Ryan being around in the hospital. Michael receives some promising, yet devastating news.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short chapter. A little calm before the storm that the next update will definitely bring.

CHAPTER VI: James Ryan Haywood

 

 

 

Sitting in therapy as Dr Burns goes on and on about healing and talking and what-the-fuck else he typically drones on about is more draining than usual, because all Ray can think about is Ryan and James and James and Ryan, how he (whoever _he_ really was) sat on that couch with Michael, Gavin and Geoff like he’d been their best friend for years.

“Who’s James?” He asks suddenly. There’s no point hiding things from Doctor Burns, not anymore. The asshole therapist has gotten way too good at reading him in such a short amount of time, but then- Ray supposes that is what he gets paid for.

“Now Ray, you know I can’t tell you things about other patients because of Doctor-Patient confidentiality.” He says. Ray rolls his eyes, but thankfully, Burns continues. “But,” he says. “As your doctor and someone who cares about I seriously want to warn you to be very careful around James.”

Ray frowns.

“James has just been re-introduced following some extended solitary therapy. He’s been away from the others for around six months, so naturally, they’re all happy to see him. But, James can be manipulative,” Burns continues. “I know he’s a nice kid, but I want you to be careful. I don’t want you to get distracted from all your improvements, okay? Time’s up.”

Ray nods, but as he turns his back to the doctor his expression is more than telling. Tears swell in the corners of his eyes and he toys with his lip harshly between his teeth to prevent himself from letting out a frustrated cry as he grips the handle of the door.

When it swings open, Ray has to hold his breath.

Ryan is on the other side, but doesn’t really acknowledge him further than an awkward smile, before pushing past and heading into the office.

“James!” He hears Dr Burns say from behind. “Please, take a seat. Let’s talk.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

That night, Ray is awoken by a vague rustling at his bedroom door.

Fumbling for his glasses and then, the light switch, Ray hunches down in front of his door when he notices something brown and square stuffed underneath it.

It’s an envelope, he quickly realises when he pulls it out and blows the dust off. He can make out one name, black typewriter font on the clear white label stuck over the front.

 

_JAMES RYAN HAYWOOD._

 

With a frown, Ray tears the envelope open and pulls out a stack of white papers. Crawling up onto his bed with his legs crossed tightly underneath him, Ray begins to read.

 

 

_JAMES RYAN HAYWOOD._

_OFFICIAL DIAGNOSIS: ~~BORDERLINE~~ PERSONALITY DISORDER; SUSPECTED MINOR PSYCHOPATHY; SUSPECTED MINOR PSYCHOSIS_

_SYMPTOMS: ~~OCCASIONAL~~ PSYCHOTIC TENDENCIES/VIOLENT OUTBURSTS._

 

_REPORTED INCIDENTS_

  1. _INCIDENT #1 REFERS TO ORIGINAL INCRIMINATION FOLLOWING MURDER OF NEIGHBOURS DOG. SHOWS NO REMORSE. MAKES FRIENDS EASILY, MANIPULATES OTHER PATIENTS._
  2. _INCIDENT #2 REFERS TO AN ARGUMENT WITH PATIENT MICHAEL JONES OVER VERBAL ABUSE TO GAVIN FREE. JAMES THREATENED TO MURDER FREE AND JONES. BOTH HAYWOOD AND JONES PLACED IN SOLITARY._



Ray skims across the rest, mainly incidents of violent and verbal outbursts with varying degrees of punishment, all stamped and dated. However, his eyes stop when he reaches one in particular that he recognises.

  1. _INCIDENT #11 REFERS TO AN ALTERCATION IN ROOM WITH RAY NARVAEZ JR. VERBAL ABUSE, HAD TO BE FORCEFULLY REMOVED FROM ROOM._



Underneath the incident was an amendment.

_UPDATE: PROMISING BEHAVIOUR. MEDS ARE NOW SEEMING TO BE EFFECTIVE, PSYCHOSIS HAS REDUCED AND JAMES HAS BECOME MORE TRUSTING TOWARDS BOTH MEMEBERS OF STAFF AND DR BURNS. SHOWS REMORSE FOR BEHAVIOUR AGAINST NARVAEZ JR AND EXPRESSES DESIRE TO BE CALLED BY HIS MIDDLE NAME, **RYAN.**_

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

The next morning, Ray enters the main lounge to see Ryan, on his own finally, sat in front of the television, playing on the Xbox. He looks up from the game when he notices Ray enter, and smiles broadly, nodding for Ray to come over and join him on the sofa.

Swallowing the uneasiness in his stomach, Ray sits beside Ryan. They’re close enough that he can see the shine of Ryan’s thick hair against the harsh lounge lights, and the few random freckles on the side of his neck, below his ear, right over the jagged scar that runs across his Adams apple.

“The other three are in group therapy.” Ryan explains before Ray has much of a chance to open his mouth and stumble his way through an icebreaker. “They should be back soon.” He adds, glancing up at the clock, before turning to face Ray with that same, unnerving smile. Ray hates the way Ryan can act as if nothing had even happened the night before. Like he hadn’t poured his heart out over some files and committed minor fraud by stealing them in the first place. “Wanna play?” he offers, waving the controller.

Ray has never been able to turn down video games since he was old enough to hold a controller, so he accepts Ryan’s offer and they quietly battle through a few levels of Halo together. It’s surprisingly nice, how relaxed Ryan looks laid back into the couch. Ray had never imagined they’d ever be _here_ , sat together in broad daylight playing rather than holed up in the hospital basement on a few flea-ridden beanbags.

“Hi James!”

Ray is distracted enough from the game to make out Gavin bouncing over, followed by a much more subdued Geoff. The Brit makes himself comfortable between them both on the sofa, Geoff then strolling over and perching on the armchair, beside Ray.

“Call me Ryan.”

All three of them, Geoff, Ray and Gavin turn to stare at their friend with confusion in their eyes. Ray’s read the files, seen Ryan’s sudden new preference, but he never expected him to vocalise it to the people he was supposedly “best friends” with in the first place. Gavin just frowns and Geoff raises his eyebrows before eventually, after a brief look at each other, they shrug.

“Okay then.” Geoff shrugs. “Whatever. _Ryan_.”

“Yeah.” Gavin nods, leg bouncing up and down rapidly as Ryan turns back to his game. “Cool.”

Ray watches silently as the three dissolve into friendly conversation. Gavin’s leg continues to bounce. Geoff’s eyes continue to wander towards the doorway of the lounge, like he’s expecting somebody.

“Why are you so antsy?” Ryan finally asks, pausing the game and staring at Gavin, who freezes. “And,” he shifts his gaze up to Geoff. “Where the fuck is Michael?”

“He… uh… he got called away to the phone.” Gavin says quietly, staring into his lap. “Someone from his family.”

“Rumour has it, he’s getting out.” Geoff adds. Ray turns to look at Gavin, who still has his eyes fixed downwards. He’s stopped vibrating his leg at least, in favour of clasping his hands together tightly. Ray’s been here long enough to know that Michael is nothing less than Gavin’s entire _world_ inside the institute, and gently, rests his hand on the Brit’s shoulder in a way he hopes is comforting.

“Well,” Ryan says, reaching over to place his controller back down on the coffee table. “There’s not much you can do about that. If Michael’s better, he’s better. You can’t stop him from being released.”

“You’re not helping!-”

“-Let me finish.” Ryan interrupts. “You can’t stop Michael from leaving, and he can’t stop himself. But Gav, we all know he cares about you a lot. He won’t just leave and disappear. He’ll call and write as often as they let him until you’re released too.”

The group of them are silent after that. Ray half expects Geoff to interject with his point, or for Gavin to protest, but they don’t. They are all silent, watching Ryan and watching each other, letting the weight of his words sink in. It’s strange, for Ray, how quickly they had all just _accepted_ him being back with a new name and little to no explanation of his absence.

“I missed having you around James.” Gavin eventually says. “Sorry- _Ryan_. Even if you are a bit mental.”

Ryan smiles, wider than Ray’s seen him smile before.

“Thanks, Gav.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Michael joins them half an hour later, looking guilty and sheepish and nervous as he paces in front of the sofa, four pairs of eyes watching him, waiting.

“So that was my uncle.” He eventually says, hands tightly clasped behind his back. “He… uh… the hospital says I can go if I don’t… have any kind of outburst in the next two weeks. He lives in Texas and… he wants me to come and live with him.”

Without saying a word, Gavin stands up from the couch and throws himself into Michael, hugging him tightly.

“You’re… not angry?” Michael asks, wrapping his arms around Gavin’s narrow back.

“Of course not!” Gavin leans back, grabbing Michael by the shoulders. “I mean… I’ll be bloody upset to see you go but… you’re getting _out_ Michael. That’s _amazing_!” he hugs him again for good measure, Michael hiding his face in Gavin’s body shoulder until all the other three can see is brown curls, tickling Gavin’s neck.

Ray shifts on the sofa, feeling like an intruder on an intimate moment. Ryan and Geoff don’t say anything, but Ray catches Ryan’s lips quirking into a tiny smile.

 

 


	7. Release Date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things go quickly after Michael leaves. However, the calm can't last forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry?

Chapter VII: Release date

 

 

 

Time passes quickly for them all, after Michael packs up and leaves the hospital.

Gavin takes it surprisingly well for the first few days. There’s a significant dull to the light in his eyes and less of a bounce in his step, but he isn’t too distraught. He sits between Geoff and Ryan on the couch every-day and quietly, they play video games until his eyes are red and raw.

However, after the first week, Ray listens through the wall and hears Gavin crying heavily in his bedroom. There’s another voice in there that he thinks is Lindsay, a faint hum of reassuring speech, but it doesn’t seem to sate him. Gavin is of course, completely devastated. He’s just learned to be very good at hiding it.

The others can see, Geoff and Ryan. They share worried looks over the back of Gavin’s head when the four of them sandwich into the sofa and play worms. It’s a tricky subject to bring up, because whenever anyone mentions Michael’s name, Gavin’s eyes go glassy and he mumbles something along the lines of: _When I get out, I’ll see him again_.

Ray, Ryan and Geoff all know full well that Gavin isn’t getting anywhere close to _out_ for a while.

Besides Gavin, things are pretty okay in the hospital. The mystery surrounding Ryan’s return seems subdued slightly, and Ray finds himself slipping back into the easy enjoyment of Ryan’s company. They don’t kiss again, but they’re close. Ryan still knocks on his door at night and they hang out on the rickety balcony, Ray talking about his day and Ryan playing with _Edgar_ , tiny and skittish between his fingers.

None of the other “inmates”, as Ryan describes them, notice much, but the staff do. Ray can always feel eyes on him when he curls into Ryan’s lap on the couch or when they slink off into the gardens to lay in the grass and stare at the clouds, chatting for hours. Eyes follow Ryan everywhere as it is, but now, Ray feels them drawn to him too. He and Ryan are suddenly no longer independents. There is no Ray, and then later, Ryan. It’s only Ray-and-Ryan, The R’n’R Connection, The Cum-Stain Comrades. The team names were Ray’s idea upon the instance of Geoff, and over weeks- it’s all they’re referred to as.

Ray knows it’s serious when Dr Burns brings it up in therapy.

“So you and Ryan.” He makes the conversation sound so completely natural, and Ray smiles. He quite likes the sound of it- _you and Ryan_. Ryan and him. “You’re very close.”

“We are.” Ray nods. “We’re good friends. We have a lot in common.”

 _No, we’re not fucking._ He wants to say. _Yes, there’s more than a friendship._

“Apparently so.” Dr Burns shuffles through his notes. “it’s caused quite the buzz among the nurses’ wards, apparently.”

Ray rolls his eyes. “Look, am I in trouble for being friends with Ryan or what? Cause don’t pretend like since we’ve become close a thousand eyes having been following us everywhere.”

Burnie sighs. He pulls his glasses from his face and places them neatly on the table, before scratching at his stubbly beard.

“Ray, you’re a responsible kid. You’re fairly mature, and I respect you at the same level I hope you respect me. so I’ll be honest.” He says. “Yes. Ryan Haywood is a red flag in this hospital. Kid’s a wildcard. When he plays nice it’s great, when he doesn’t… it gets bad. I wouldn’t be surprised if you had seen some of the countless incident reports considering they went suspiciously missing from my office right around the time he was re-integrated with the group…”

Ray is silent, but Dr Burns rarely needs words to figure out what he’s thinking. He knows. That’s obvious enough.

“I want to warn you to stay away from Ryan, but I know you won’t listen. And, it would be contradictory of my plans for Ryan, which is to rehabilitate him to be a functional young adult in society. In all fairness, you and Ryan have helped each other.” He glances at his notes, flicking through some of the papers briefly. “Ryan’s been doing a hell of a lot better recently, and more importantly so have you.”

Ray raises his eyebrows at that. Since Ryan joined the group, he’d barely been paying much attention to therapy. He’d just participated where he was needed. He’d been completely _average_ \- and that was probably exactly what the doctors were looking for. He hadn’t even given it a second through.

“I have?” he asks. Burnie nods.

“Honestly Ray, I think you’re ready to be released.”

Ray’s heart stops.

“R-released?” he stutters. “But I’ve… it’s only been-”

“Four months Ray. Well,” he glances at the calendar, pinned to the cabinet. “Almost five. You’re not harming yourself, you take your medication, you don’t show any serious signs of depressive episodes. You’re… mentally stable. You’re a perfect candidate for release. I sent the final request papers off this morning. You could be out of here in… two weeks?”

“Just like that?” Ray asks. Dr Burns nods.

“Just like that.” He repeats. The clock on the desk ticks over. _15:00_. “Times up.” Dr Burns smiles. “Nice talking with you, Ray.”

“But- Dr Burns!” Ray doesn’t move from his seat, suddenly frozen by the thought of leaving. _How ironic_ , he thinks for a second. _When I got here, I couldn’t fucking wish to be anywhere else._ “What about…”

“-Ryan?” Dr Burns expression is unreadable. “I’ll talk to him. I’m calling him in next.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

By the time Ray musters up the strength to lift his two feet and walk out of Dr Burns’ office, Ryan must’ve already received his call. He’s lurking around in the hallway, eyes lighting up and a smile stretching across his pink mouth when he spots Ray.

“Hey!” He waves. “How was your session?”

Ray stands awkwardly still. He can’t turn and run back into the office- that would be beyond suspicious- but he doesn’t want to take any step closer to Ryan either. Nerves freeze him, and Ryan frowns.

“That bad?” he asks. “Is Burnie in another one of his moods?”

“No.” Ray manages to shake his head. “He just… surprised me. that’s all. He wants to speak to you, actually.”

“So I hear.” Ryan hums casually, hands stuffed into his pockets as he saunters down the rest of the hallway, walking past Ray and towards the door of Doctor Burns’ office. He turns at the last minute, one hand wrapped around the brass door. Ray knows he’s being watched from the shuffling sounds of Ryan’s feet, but he doesn’t dare to turn back and look him in the eyes.

“Nothing bad, I hope.” And then, he smiles.

Ray swallows.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

It is no less than an hour later when Ryan returns to the main lounge, looking to be a completely different person than the one Ray saw in the hall.

He’s been skittish for the last hour, agitated and unsettled, constantly glancing to the hallway, waiting for Ryan to repeated. Even Geoff and Gavin have noticed his odd behaviour, refusal to play videogames, unwillingness to talk. They know something is wrong immediately. When Ryan steps slowly into the lounge with his fists clenched by his side and his jaw set into a deep frown, they start to put the pieces together.

“Hey Ryan!” Ray’s eyes flit to the unsuspecting victim. Brandon, one of the male nurses watches Ryan with a lightly concerned gaze. “You okay, dude?”

Ryan doesn’t say anything. He’s pretty good with words, but some things don’t require them. Sometimes action is enough, and Ryan makes it very clear how he feels about the news of Ray’s departure when his fist sails through the air and connects with Brandon’s nose ferociously before smashing his own face into the cool white wall beside them. Blood spurts from both Brandon’s face and his own, but the nurse is the one whose hands immediately fly to the wound, whining loudly as two other male nurses rush over, grabbing Ryan by his forearms and dragging him back into the depths of the hospital. Surprisingly, Ryan doesn’t fight them. He lets his body go limp as he is dragged away, eyes locked with Ray’s the entire time.

“What the fuck as that about?” Brandon whinges as Lindsay rushes to him with tissues. Ray feels his heart, beating like hummingbirds wing against his ribs. He doesn’t even notice his own body quivering until Gavin very quietly leans towards his ear and asks, “Ray, are you okay?”

“It’s my fault.” Ray says, louder than he anticipates. Gavin and Geoff are on him in a minute, quietly talking at a thousand miles a minute in a futile attempt to calm him. But it’s too late, Lindsay’s already heard him. She’s already approached by the time Ray shoves Gavin off him, tears tracking down his cheeks as his breaths draw shallow again.

“It’s all my fault!” he can only say. “It’s fucking all my fault!”

Ray follows in Ryan’s footsteps, hoisted up shaking and crying by another male nurse and bundled into his room with Lindsay by his side. The door clicks as it is locked from the outside. Ray screams.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Ray doesn’t see Ryan at all for the entirety of the next week, but he doesn’t forget the sight of him. Blood had poured from Ryan’s nose following its collision with the wall, but the rage had faded from his eyes. Ray remembers, in a swirl of dreams and memories that Ryan had looked almost completely numb as he was dragged away. Ray doesn’t know where he was dragged away too. He doesn’t bother asking, knowing full well that he would never receive the answer.

His leaving arrangements are unsurprisingly rushed forwards following the encounter. Ray does a day in the hole and its loneliness is peaceful. For white walls, a table, a chair. A pen and a few thick sheets of paper. He’s supposed to write about why he feels remorse for his behaviour. Ray doesn’t bother picking up the pen, and when Lindsay comes to drop off his dinner, she looks sad.

Solitary only lasts a day, and it’s not long before Ray is back in the centre of that lumpy old couch, mindlessly watching the daytime news with Gavin and Geoff either side of him.

“Your country is going to shit.” Geoff says to Gavin, who huffs and folds his arms.

“Blood idiots. Lot of ‘em.” He says. “Glad I’m not still there.”

“I don’t know.” Geoff shrugs. “Seems a little better than here.”

Ray isn’t sure if Geoff means ‘here’ as in _here_ , the institute, or ‘here’ as in America. Both, in his eyes, seem pretty fucking shitty options.

“They’re letting me out.” He decides to say, startling Geoff and Gavin. “Burns sent word over today that my forms got approved. I’m leaving at the end of this week.”

Never one to defy expectation, Gavin cries.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed and I'll see you next week! Kudos and comments appreciated as always!
> 
> Q: Do you think Ray is ready to leave the hospital? Do you think he should talk to Ryan again before he does? How long will Gavin cope without Michael?
> 
> Answer in the comments!


	8. Tiger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The.... End?

CHAPTER VIII: Tiger

 

 

 

It’s a different kind of sadness to the one that had plagued Ray previously, following him from above like a cloud and drowning him in rain when he arrived at the hospital. This sadness is more muted, subdued even. It’s a gentle longing for the times he despised. Why had he spent so long wishing he was anywhere else but the Rooster Teeth Institute for Troubled Boys?

Ray hadn’t had many friends before being admitted. Now- he’s got Michael and Jack, both in Austin and on the outside. Both boys had telephoned as soon as Ray’s letters announcing his release reached them, promising that they were both in contact with each other and that they would invite him to their Xbox Live party as soon as he made it home.

Now- he’s got Geoff and Gavin. They might stay in Rooster Teeth for another twelve months or another twelve years- it won’t matter. They’ll still be two of his best friends. Ray will call and write every God-damn day if it means he can stay in contact. Michael and Gavin had lasted this long, after all.

“What about Ryan?” Gavin asks the question that plagues everyones mind silently. Nobody had dared even mention the name to Ray until then, and it startled him, how just the mention of Ryan Haywood made his lips tingle with the longing to touch. “You two got pretty close. I know he… freaked out again but… do you think they’d let you say goodbye?”

“Burnie’ll let him.” Geoff folds his arms, looking up as the psychiatrist in question makes his way into the longue, an area he doesn’t often frequent. “I talked to him about it in my last session. Said Ryan had to see you. For both your sakes. Can’t have unfinished business with walls these thick.”

Ray wonders how long Dr Burns really did try and stick with that patient confidentiality bullshit- but then, Geoff can be pretty persuasive when he wants to be.

 

* * *

 

 

 

He hugs both Geoff and Gavin tightly before being led away by Burns and Lindsay. The corridors all look the same to him- nowhere he hadn’t seen before, until they take a sharp turn through what is labelled as a storage closet into a much wider, more hospital-like corridor. The halls are deathly silent, only the squeaking of sensible shoes against the floor to be heard. Ray marvels at the space around him, wondering how it could’ve existed under his nose the whole time. Had _nobody_ been suspicious? This wing of the building was _huge_! Spacious rooms accompanied by giant windows seeing into the corridor, old metal beds, solitary in each. Lindsay watches with a nervous smile as Ray marvels at his surroundings. Dr Burns doesn’t notice.

“This is what’s left of the old general hospital.” Lindsay explains quietly, as they round another sharp corner into a corridor full of heavy looking, plain doors and more giant windows making the feeble bedrooms appear more like museum exhibits “We don’t use it for much.”

“Here.” Burns stops in front of a door, and drawing a Chubb key from his belt, turns the lock. “Don’t ever say I didn’t do nothing for ya, kid.”

The room is that annoying hospital white, which makes Ray think of sirens and water and his mother crying. He is presented with a plain table and a single chair, just like the one in solitary. Only, instead of a pen and paper to stare at for hours- there’s a giant sheet of glass, cutting the wall completely in half. On the other side, Ryan sits in the corner of a fairly well furnished bedroom, handcuffed to a water heater.

He sees Ray, but makes no effort to move. Ray steps forwards and presses his hands against the glass.

“Why’s he-”

He turns, but Lindsay and Burnie aren’t visible through the giant window on the opposite wall. Instead, sits a giant mirror. Ray approaches it slowly with a narrowed gaze, and presses his finger against it. He knows the trick- two-way glass disguised as a mirror. It’s not exactly original.

“Why’s he tied up?” he asks, loudly, staring through the mirror so Burnie and Lindsay know full well that they haven’t fooled him.

“I wouldn’t stop fighting.” Ryan says, startling him. Ray turns, and approaches the glass again. Ryan is still slumped in the corner, but he sits up ever so slightly, using his free hand to smoothen his hair and tug at his wrinkled t shirt to make it a little more presentable. “Threatened to do some pretty awful things,” he smiled. “To them and to myself. Naturally- they restrained me.”

“Seems a little informal.” Ray glances at the metal of the cuffs, reflecting off the light in the too-bright room. “Tug hard enough, you’ll cut your wrists raw.”

“They’re padded.” Ryan rolls his eyes. “They’re not that stupid and I’m not that lucky.”

“I’m so sorry Ryan.” Ray says after a pause of deliberation, pressing a hand up against the cool glass. Over the past week or so, he’d laid in bed and imagined a thousand ways his conversation with Ryan could go. But now that it’s real and it’s happening and Ryan is crouched on the other side of the glass with pain in his smirk and a dulling to the sparkle in his eyes, Ray is utterly lost for words. Ryan’s face doesn’t change at his apology, but his eyes do flicker to the floor. “It isn’t your fault.” He says, quietly. “I’m the fucked up one.”

“Dr Burns says you’ve been getting better though Rye! If you just… keep taking your meds and start… _participating_ again, who knows how quickly you’ll be getting out!”

“Nah,” Ryan dismisses with a tired huff and the lazy attempt at a smirk drooping the right side of his lip. “They’re never letting me out of here.”

“Come on, Ryan. You have to at least try and-”

“Don’t you understand?” Ryan raises his voice, but he doesn’t sound angry. Ray looks at him- really _studies_ the slumped boy for the first time since stepping in the room, and quickly decides that Ryan probably hasn’t slept for a week. His eyes are rimmed red and the bags are seeping into his cheeks, staining their chiselled beauty. His pink lips and pale skin look dry and flaky and his hair is dead and dull. “I’m _never_ fucking leaving this hospital Ray. I can’t get past this fucking _ward_ for more than a month.”

“Ryan. I believe in you. You can _get_ _better-”_

“Even _if_ tomorrow morning I wake up perfectly fucking sane, there isn’t anywhere else for me to _go_ , Ray.” Ryan glares. “My family _hate_ me, and no foster parents or group home will ever take me with my track record. I’m going to be here _forever_.”

Ray sighs, resting his forehead gently against the cool glass. He exhales so deeply, that for a few seconds the glass clouds from his hot breath. It dissipates just as quickly as it appears and Ryan is clear once again, a steamy halo surrounding him. Ray bites his lip, taking in the way he looks. Tired sunken eyes etched into a flaky, dry face. Clothes dishevelled, lip swollen. Ray wonders how many hours Ryan’s spent on the soft, padded floor, toying with his lip between his teeth to make it bleed like that.

“I’m sorry.” Ray says, for lack of better thought. Ryan glares at him.

“No, you’re not!” he raises his voice, so suddenly that it makes Ray flinch. “I don’t need your fucking fake pity, alright? Get out!”

“Ryan!”

“-Don’t you have a fucking home to go back to? Isn’t that why you’re here?” Ryan spits. “Just leave me alone.”

Ray draws his hand back slowly from the glass. This time, when he steps back and opens his eyes to look at Ryan, he remembers the last time his dad ever took him out. They had sat in his dad’s old Ford Pinto and driven for what felt to an eight-year-old like hours, far out of state to a giant zoo. When Ray looks through the glass at Ryan, hunched in the corner with his eyes rimmed red and glowing with an ice-cold rage, he remembers what it felt like to be small- face pressed against the glass to watch the tigers devour their afternoon snack.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Of course there's an epilogue. You should all know me well enough by now!


	9. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As part of his continuous therapy outside of the institute, Ray writes letters. Sometimes, people write back. Other times, they don't.

Epilogue

 

 

Dear Gavin,

 

Hope everything is good with you and Geoff. I guess that’s a good way to start a letter- sorry, I don’t exactly write very often. I wrote to Dr Burns suggesting you guys get some kind of Wi-Fi so we could email, but I don’t think he’s keen on the idea.

Austin is pretty cool, and I see Michael all the time! He lives about a half hours drive away, but Dr Burns insisted to my mom and his uncle that seeing each other a lot would be good for both of us, so we meet up and hang out and play video games and have sleepovers. We even see Jack sometimes- because he lives in central Austin and is allowed to drive a car now. Jack’s like a different guy. He’s so mellow all the time and hardly ever freaks out.

We still all really miss you guys though. Hope to see you soon, and I guess I’ll end this letter here, cause… I don’t know what else to say.

Love,

Ray xxxxxxx

 

 

-

 

 

Dear Ryan,

Part of my continuous therapy outside of the institute is making contact with people I associate painful memories with. I don’t even have to send the letters if I don’t want to, and Dr Jenkins doesn’t read them if I don’t want her too. I’ve probably written like twelve different ones to my dad, but I couldn’t send them even if I wanted to. Turns out, he got drunk and drove a car into an oak tree two months after I was admitted into Rooster Teeth. He died instantly, on impact. I suppose that’s the best I could’ve hoped for him.

My mom was kinda upset about it, but she seems alright now. I told her about you and Gavin and Michael and Geoff and Jack and all the others, but mostly you. She doesn’t hate you- if you were wondering. I tried to explain that you were kinda fucked up but meant well and I think she got it.

At least, I hope you meant well. I know things didn’t really end on good terms with us. Maybe if you write me back we can change that? Dr Burns promised this letter would be delivered right to you.

Love,

Ray x

 

-

 

To Ray,

Top hearing from you lad! This whole letter writing malarkey seemed pointless to me when I first got here, but now that I’ve got all these mates on the outside, it actually comes in pretty handy. I write Michael loads- like four times a week. I would’ve thought he’d be annoyed by all my blathering by now, but he always writes back to every single letter I send. I write Jack sometimes too- and he promised he’ll take us all for a drive to the beach when we’re all out.

Geoff’s good, he doesn’t have time to write because he’s busy packing. He’s being released in two weeks, which is awesome. They’ve got him an apartment set up in Austin- so maybe you’ll see him around sometime. RT is getting a little lonely without you all here, but it’s not so bad.

Nobody has seen ~~James~~ Ryan since you left. I guess he’s back on lockdown for a while. If he does get let out, I’ll let you know.

Miss you a million!!!!!

Love,

Gavino xx

 

-

To Ryan

It’s kind of hard to do conflict resolution one sided. Dr Jenkins says I don’t have to keep writing to you if it makes me more upset, cause you’re not replying and everything, but it’s actually quite therapeutic. I don’t even know if you’re reading my letters or just tearing them into shreds. I don’t mind either option (but I hope that you read them).

I can’t really get any information from Dr Burns in our monthly appointments for patient-doctor confidentiality reasons, but he says you’re still at RT and you’re still working towards getting better. I hope it’s true, and he isn’t just lying to make me feel better. You hurt me a lot when I left RT, but ultimately you made my whole experience worth it. You helped me get better.

Let me help you?

Love

Ray xxxx

 

-

To Ryan

So, it’s been five months since I left now. It’s weird how quickly the time goes, because every day felt like a lifetime on the inside. Sorry, I hope it isn’t going too slowly for you and the doctors aren’t too unbearable with all their therapy crap. I always thought you were way smarter than all that.

You still haven’t written me back, which is cool. I guess you don’t feel like talking. Dr Burns says that maybe, if you improve then I can call you but I don’t think much will happen about this. From this radio silence and the pity-looks he constantly gives me when I ask about you, I’m guessing you’re not interested in talking at all. And that’s okay. I’d much rather you be better than spend all your time thinking about me.

I don’t know if I’ll write you again after this Ryan. But I want you to know that I do think of you. Not every day like a dumb teenage girl in a movie, but every now-and-then. Everyone else is good, but you probably know that. Geoff says he writes you all the time, and once or twice, you wrote back.

I hope things work out for you soon.

Love,

Ray.

 

 

-

 

To Ray,

I’M GETTING OUT!!!!!!!!

Ray, I can honestly say I have never ever been so excited in my life. Dr Burns came and told me today that he was putting me up for release, and If I’m really lucky, I could be out in three to six weeks. They’re moving me into a group hope right near where Michael lives in Austin, Texas, so I can see him all the time! And you and Jack and Geoff as well! How crazy, all of us lot- back together!

I don’t have time to write much more because I have to finish my letters to Geoff and Jack. I was so excited, they even let me call Michael and tell him personally. I can’t wait to see you!

Love

Gav! Xxxx

P.S – I saw Ryan today! Almost forgot to write this bit before I sent it. He’s been let out of his special solitary quarters and is being re-re-integrated back into the main home. He seems to be doing alright, and when I asked about you he got this weird kind of smile on his face. So who knows- maybe he’ll be getting out next!

 

-

 

To Ryan

Hey, so seven months in and the letter therapy is still working.

I’ve kinda stopped writing to my dad. I wrote a final letter two week ago and then went and left it at his grave. It’s pretty shitty, because nobody wanted to foot the money for a proper headstone, so it’s just a wooden cross in a sea of other wooden crosses where the assholes that nobody wanted lay. I left the letter there anyway, and then stopped writing, just like I said I would.

Until now. Dr Jenkins says I do better when I’m writing so I guess you’re the only one left to write too. I hope you’re doing good. I hope you don’t miss Gavin too much and you’ve made a few new friends. I miss you. Even though I probably shouldn’t.

Love, Ray xxxx

 

-

 

To Ryan

It’s weird, hanging out with everyone when you’re not there. Since Gavin got out, we’ve all started seeing each other again once a week. Part of Geoff’s rehabilitation thing is that he gets his own apartment downtown, so we meet there and play video games. Everyone misses you- we talk about it sometimes. I hope you don’t mind.

Gavin and Michael are doing good- I know you’d want to know that. I went with Michael to see him the day he got out and it was like Christmas morning or something. I’d never seen them both so excited to see each other. Then Michael kissed Gavin on the lips and they’ve sort of been dating ever since.

That made me think of you and when you get out if you’ll be that happy to see me. And yeah I said when. Not if. ‘Cause I still believe in you Ryan.

I hope you believe in you too.

Love, Ray xxx

 

-

 

To Ray,

I just want to start this letter off by saying that I am so, so sorry. And there isn’t really much else to say apart from that. There’s so many things that I am sorry for and so many things that I wish I could take back. But life doesn’t work like that, I guess.

I just wanted you to know that I’m getting better and I’m getting out. And that, for all the times I wanted to give up, I’d read over your last letter and remember that you believed in me. And then I’d believe in me too. I promised myself that I’m going to find you as soon as I make it out of this place- no matter where they send me. Dr Burns took it upon himself to manage my release and placement, so hopefully, he’ll put me at least somewhere in Austin. If not… I’ll find my way there.

There’s too much here that I have to say, that I don’t think I can fit it all into one single letter. So, I suppose you’ll just have to wait until I make it out of here in the next few weeks. I just wanted you to know that I kept every single letter and I read them all, a thousand times.

And I love you. And I’m sorry.

See you soon!

 

Ryan x

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just want to say thanks, for every reader, comment and kudos on this fic. I hope you all enjoyed Ray's journey as much as I did, and feedback on this last chapter would be lovely.
> 
> Love you all!
> 
> Thanks.

**Author's Note:**

> My new fic! Please let me know what you think!
> 
> Questions: What do you think of this so far? What are your predictions for the rest of the story?


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